There Are No Rules
by KiltedPineapple
Summary: Red Canyon fanfiction. I am exploring the mind and life of Mac, my beloved muse. Rate M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

Ronnie was not the type of girl that was ever forward with any man. In fact, she thought she might prefer being with a lady after all the times men had hurt her. When the abuse starts at home you tend to find other options. It wasn't just her father. He had a whole slew of drunken friends that thought diddling a little girl was acceptable. She left Salt Lake City at 17 and ended up in the middle of nowhere Utah. Just trying to run away from a past that seemed to follow her everywhere, the emotional scars were evident in every part of her personality. She ended up near Red Canyon. The area was beautiful, but the town she was in was a dive. The only work she could find was at a little restaurant/bar called the Luna Mesa and it had pretty much become her home. The old man, Walter, that owned the place was more like a father to her than her own. He was like a father should be. He never tried to touch her and the few times the local men had tried, he gave them a look that said if you do anything, I'll kill you.

For all the thoughts she had about going "to the other side", there was one guy in town that had always intrigued her. Mac was spectacular to look at until he smiled. But even then, she felt she could overlook his teeth. Mac had a wonderfully sculpted body. Nothing too overdone, but every time he reached for something she would try and catch a glimpse of his arms and the curvature in each muscle. It made her feel bad being attracted to him. Every man that had been in her life to that point had hurt her and somehow she knew Mac would be no different, yet he was the only man she had ever actually been sexually attracted to. Sometimes when he'd tell her something, he'd lean in close. When she would feel his breath on her neck immediately goose bumps would rise up on her arms and every once in a while it would make her nipples hard. She was sure Mac never noticed. He was always nice to her when he came in to the Mesa, likely because Walter had made it so clear no one was allowed to mess with her. There were always outsiders though - people who drove in to explore the Canyon - those men didn't know the rules.

This was one of those nights Ronnie would rather be home, wrapped in a blanket. The rain had been coming down off and on for days, which was rare in the Canyon but welcome all the same. What made it bad was all the tourists would flock to find shelter and the Mesa was it. There really wasn't anything else around. Three men walked in looking like the typical preppy hikers that frequented the area. You could tell they ate Clif Bars and only wore North Face clothing when they were out so they looked the part of a nature-loving backpacker. The reality was they just came out to the desert because they could get shit-faced drunk and smoke weed without getting the run around from the local law enforcement. Ronnie approached them to take their order and caught a whiff of booze - these three had already had a fun day.

"What can I get for you gentleman tonight?" she asked in her normal shy voice.

One of the men looked up at her. "You can get me some of you, cutie pie." He reached out to touch her backside, but she shifted quickly enough for him to get the picture.

"Drinks only, tonight boys. Or there is the storm outside." Sometimes when she spoke up for herself she felt stronger, but there was always the moment of hesitation waiting to see how the person would react. Thankfully tonight, these men did not seem to be interested in fighting for a piece of ass. Ronnie took their drink order and sauntered to Walter for him to fill it. Looking over her left shoulder she saw Mac walk in and sit at the far end of the bar. Her heart jumped a little seeing him. She felt her cheeks go flush and she immediately looked down at her serving tray. _What the hell was that?_

"Your drinks, Veronica." she heard Walter's raspy voice grumble at her. Snapping out of her contemplation she smiled at him and took the drinks to the three men then found ways to keep herself busy so she didn't have to look at Mac again. She could feel his presence like a pressure on her shoulders and for a moment she felt a deep urge to just go talk to him, but resisted. He was a man and no matter how nice he had been in the past there were rumors around town about drugs and women. She wasn't in to drugs and knew that was the reason he had messed up teeth. She was certainly not into entertaining the idea of being with a guy that had a harem. Though, as she processed that she could not recall any local women ever saying they had been in a relationship with him.

As she took the men their third round, the frisky man that had called her cutie pie decided to have another go. He reached out, this time quicker than her and grabbed a handful of ass. Immediately her defenses went up. She shoved the man, not meaning to use so much force but he fell back in his chair and spilled on to the floor. His friends started laughing and teasing him about being knocked down by a girl. Walter and Mac were both watching at the bar waiting to see how the situation would unfold.

"You bitch!" The man yelled as he pulled himself to his feet. "You don't fucking push me!" He lunged at Ronnie, her heart starting to race and all she heard was her father's voice. _Come on, Ronnie. Be a good girl for Daddy. _ In a state of shock, thinking of that bastard old man that used to touch her and fondle her, she paid no attention as the man slapped her across the face. Her skin burning as his hand connected with her cheek, she stumbled back lip bleeding. With all the alacrity of a spry young man Walter was around the counter with his shotgun and pointing it and the guy within seconds. The man put his hands up; trying to demonstrate he knew he'd crossed a line.

"You leave my bar," croaked his grisly voice. Walter slowly shifted the shotgun in an attempt to show he would not hesitate to use it.

The man looked at his buddies. "Come on, let's leave this dump. Ain't no poon worth all this." The three stood and went to walk out, Mr. Gropey-Hands nudging Ronnie with his shoulder as he walked past. She stumbled backward coming back to reality in time to steady herself. She could feel herself wanting to cry, but held back her tears. Ronnie couldn't help but look over at Mac. He had sat there and watched the whole thing go down and had done nothing. It was too much to ask there was any real charm in him outside of those crystal-like eyes that could pierce your soul with a glance.

As the three men approached the door, Mac stood and walked over, opening the rusty screen for them. "I'll be seeing ya." He said in his mellow tone, cracking a smile and revealing his horrible meth mouth. The men all have looks of disgust and started laughing. Mac scowled and just continued to hold open the door. Ronnie could hear the men laughing and mocking Mac as they exited on to the porch.

Mac looked over at Walter. The old man walked back around the counter and stashed his shotgun. "Veronica, you okay honey?" His voice always sounded grouchy, yet he always said nice things to her. The fact that he would call her honey and then not cop a feel made her completely comfortable around him.

Ronnie brought her hand up to her lip and could taste the coppery blood. "I'll be okay. I'm sorry about that. He was getting fresh. I... he..." she started fumbling her words as the moment started sinking in. What was it going to take to just live her life with a man trying to get into her pants? And it seemed the one guy she would be willing was not actually interested.

"It's alright darlin'. Let's just call it a night. How about I have Mac here give you a ride home. I can't have you waking in the rain." Walter gave Mac a look that said she better make it home safe. Mac just nodded and put the whiskey bottle back behind the bar.

Ronnie looked over at Mac who was drinking what would be his last shot for the night. Again she could feel that pressure building. The nervous energy you get when you're 10 and you have a schoolyard crush. How is it she could even feel remotely attracted to this man? Ronnie gave a slight grin and walked behind the bar, head down to grab her bag. As she walked back around and toward the door, she saw Mac shoot Walter another look but kept her head down.

The air outside was crisp. The rain was coming down good and there was sure to be flash flooding in the area. The puddles just off the porch had been growing all day and formed a bit of a lake where the parking lot used to be. Ronnie looked over at Mac and shivered a bit. She was only wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt, no jacket because the weather had been so unpredictable over the past few weeks.

"Come on then, girl. I ain't got all night." Mac waived her toward his crappy old red pick-up. He headed toward the driver's side, stepping out into Lake Luna Mesa without complaint. Ronnie stood there for a moment and then stepped out from under the meager protection the porch covering offered. Instantly she was soaked. She looked down at her shirt and could see her bra. _Wonderful. All I need tonight is for Mac to see my stupid body react once to something he says._ As she tried the door to the truck it was locked. She could see Mac looking at her through the window as the dirt and grime washed off the roof making strange patterns on their way down. Almost a full thirty seconds later, he leaned over and unlocked the door.

"Thank you," she said climbing in to the cab. "Sorry about getting your truck all wet."

"It's alright, Ronnie. It ain't getting any fucking cleaner in this weather. I like the wet anyway." He glanced at her and smiled and somehow she was not as uncomfortable with it as she thought she would be. Most times when men hit on her or attempted to use subtle innuendos she would just lock right up and want nothing to do with them. Mac was different. Was it just because he was so sexy? Honestly, she had not put much thought in to other men and things she would and wouldn't like in them, but the idea of experiencing consensual sex – and especially with Mac – was something she had thought about since she started working at the Luna Mesa.

_You know he's an angry man._ The little voice in her head started to kick in. Was he an angry man? She had seen him fight with men plenty of times, but other than the rumors she had never seen him beating on a girl and he had certainly not ever been mean to her. They hardly, if ever, saw each other away from the Luna Mesa. Maybe she was jumping the gun. Being abused growing up did not have to mean she could not enjoy sex now. Somehow she knew she had to get that thought out of her mind. Ronnie glanced at Mac as he focused on the road.

"I am soaked. I look like one of those girls in a wet t-shirt contest." She giggled uncomfortably.

Mac took his eyes off the road and she could feel the truck slow a little. He scowled at her with an intensity that made her heart jump again. "Your titties aren't big enough for one of those contests. You'd lose." He turned and faced the road again and the truck picked back up its forward momentum.

Ronnie sat there for a moment, feeling rotten inside. Why did she even try? She was no good at it - just a broken girl and no way to repair the damage. The truck pulled into what should have been a driveway, but all the houses out here seemed to have no landscaping or architecture outside. Just lots of red dirt, sand and maybe a few bushes or trees. She sat there for a minute wanting to say something to him about his comment, but couldn't think of anything that didn't sound juvenile. As she got out, she heard his door open and turned.

"Thank you for the ride, Mac," as she turned to walk into her house.

"That's it? Man gives you a ride home and you only say 'thank you'? You gotta be fucking kidding me." Mac sounded angry but she thought maybe she sensed hurt in his voice.

"What else would you want?" The nerves took control again and she felt the shiver move up her spine.

Mac stepped closer to her and grabbed her hips, pulling her close to him. She could feel him getting hard and for the first time she felt okay with a man hitting on her. The man at the bar had only wanted a little action. Why was that so bad and Mac okay? As her body started to tingle she instinctively gyrated closer towards him, giving her invite. He leaned in to kiss her and as his tongue filled her mouth suddenly she felt unsure what to do. Sex had always been a bad thing or a forced thing. She wanted him, but she just didn't know how to make love to a guy. Ronnie tried kissing back, following Mac's lead but became very self-aware that she was not doing a very good job of keeping him turned on.

Mac pulled away from her. "Damn girl. You a virgin or something? Don't you know what you're doing?" When he growled at her like that she probably should have seen all sorts of red flags, but they were just not flying. She wanted to be with Mac and was praying he would not care about her inexperience.

Ronnie let out an awkward chuckle, "No, I'm not a virgin. I just… I have never…" She stopped. She didn't know what to say to him. He obviously had more experience than her and now she was just the naïve little girl that was horny and didn't know how to go about getting any.

Mac grunted. She could tell he was trying to figure it out, but wasn't putting the pieces together. "So do you wanna fuck, or not?" he grumbled. Ronnie gently nodded and grabbed his hand, leading him inside. Mac glanced at Ronnie's cherub ass as he followed her and decided it would be worth at least some of his time. And he wasted none once they got in to her living room. He scooped her up forcing her legs around him and started to kiss her again. The fact that she was clueless really meant nothing to him. He was going to get what he wanted out of it regardless.

Ronnie was incredibly turned on and tried to just go with the flow. Mac wasn't stopping so she must be doing something right. He slammed her down on the couch and peeled her shoes and jeans off. She started to take off her t-shirt, but before she could Mac had his knife out. Ronnie froze, but Mac just reached over and cut the bottom end enough to get a tear going, then ripped her shirt off. He lay on top of her and she could feel his hand unbuckling his own pants. Once his dick was lying on her thigh and she could feel a slow throb she knew she was doing the right thing. He reached his hand down inside her panties and she moaned with approval as his fingers started exploring. When he stopped she opened her eyes to see him licking his fingertips. "You taste good. You're mine." He sat up and grabbed his knife again, cutting her panties and bra from her.

There was a remote fear niggling in the back of Ronnie's mind, but at this point she just wanted Mac inside her. She wanted to know what it felt like. He started to thrust into her and the overwhelming feeling of awe spilled over her. Somehow it hurt and felt good simultaneously. She grunted and moaned and rocked in line with his motions and with every sound of satisfaction he made it only made her get more into it. The moment of joy would not last though.

Mac grabbed her wrists and threw her hands up over her head. She was still enjoying herself as his tongue ran across her nipples, making them rock hard. It only made him thrust harder and each time she felt like she was going to explode. She could feel him biting her and that didn't bother her either. It was the moment he let out the slow, breathy sentence, "Cum for daddy" that ended all the fun. Ronnie felt that sickly feeling immediately and started to close her legs, but Mac wasn't having it. She started writhing, trying to break free from his grip, but it only turned Mac on more. Twisting her wrists away from his large hands, he figured out she was actually trying to get him to stop. Then came the cries of 'No' and the tears. For Mac, it meant nothing. He was ready to go and this bitch was not going to stop that. He placed one hand on her shoulder and grabbed her inner thigh with the other hand, pinning her down and keeping her legs spread enough to finish the job.

His grip was tight and as he continued on, ignoring her pleas. She could feel his fingertips digging in to her shoulders as her tears puddled under her neck. Part of her wanted to go back to the moment before he spoke. The level of pleasure had been immense. Mac wasn't going to stop and he still kept hitting the right spot inside that made her want to move with him. She focused on his face for a moment. He was so wrapped up in the pleasure he had no clue he had even done anything wrong, she thought. She reached her arm up around his neck and pulled him closer to her so she could feel his bare skin on hers. He only seemed to like that more and continued until that moment of climax. She felt her whole body shake and quiver, his hand squeezing her thigh to the point of bruising she was sure. It didn't matter. All the bad times, she had never experience that part - that moment.

Mac sat up and started to pull his pants up. He didn't say anything as he looked around for his shirt. Ronnie lay there trying to figure out what she should do next. When Mac stood and headed for the door, Ronnie felt a wave of hurt. "You're not going to stay?" she asked sweetly.

"Fuck no. Thanks for the ride though." He walked out and she could hear him get into his truck and drive off. Somehow, Mac leaving the way he did and as quickly as he did ended up not hurting so bad. She lay there naked and alone thinking about what had just happened. She said no but he kept on going. Some would call that rape, but she just knew deep down, he didn't stop because he really wanted her. She would have to wait to find out if that were true the next time he came into the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

Mac was driving away from Ronnie's house not feeling completely satisfied. He hated it when the women he was with tried to make it more intimate than it needed to be. He didn't need some woman getting attached to him. What he needed was a hit. He reached over to his glove box and opened it, hoping he still had one of his pipes in there. The drugs were the only things he really loved. The only thing he enjoyed more than getting high was cooking the stuff up. Mac was never really good in school. Living way out in the middle of no where, any local kids had to be bused to Unitah and he had always hated that trip. Plus, a lot of the kids in the area had shit loads of money and Mac never did. After a while, the upset about being teased about being poor or dirty or smelling like all the dogs his dad had turned to anger and hate. Drugs relieved that hatred and allowed him to function in public without wanting to kill someone. Though, most of the time he still felt like killing everyone. He had, in fact, killed people before. That was one benefit he found of living out in the Canyon was the ability to make people disappear. Getting out that moment of rage was another thing his enjoyed. Rage was certainly something he had a lot of. Sometimes that was acted out with people he didn't like or had pissed him off and other times, like tonight, with the women he would randomly pick up.

Being with a woman consensually was not rare. There were plenty of women that were willing to be with him; not a lot of those women approved of his methods. Liking things rough was an understatement. Mac liked being in complete control of every situation he was in. Losing control was not an option. If he ever felt he was in a situation where he was losing ground, he would turn the tables - usually in a violent manner. Many people, men and women alike, had suffered the consequences of Mac not having the upper hand.

As he was digging through his glove box and still trying to focus on the road he felt the object of his affection slid into his fingers. A sly grin formed on his face. Peace at last. Most people who used crystal meth would get excitable and jumpy, but not Mac. The drugs helped him focus on the things he wanted to do. Only when he was coming down did he feel like he couldn't handle life, though he didn't need much to keep him happy. No, happy wasn't the right word. He was either satisfied or not. Never happy. Happy was too cheery of a word.

Mac pulled his truck over to the side of the road and stepped out off the shoulder to the passenger side of his rusty pick-up truck. The rain had stopped coming down and this far out the ground was not as soggy as it had been back at the bar. He could see the stars starting to break through the clouds off to the west, looking like the rain was going to be moving on. Mac pulled the pipe close to his mouth and took a hit. The rush overwhelmed him for a moment, but he always enjoyed that feeling when his heart would start racing and his vision would blink in and out and the drug took hold. Like an old, familiar friend, he leaned back against his truck and let the substance kick in.

Sometimes when he was using he lost track of time. Zoning on the sounds of the desert, as the creatures of the night came out to play again with the rain heading off to the east, it was the sound of a vehicle that snatched his attention. Mac looked over his right shoulder and could see headlights heading in his direction. Just in case it was Sheriff Pratt or that idiot Harley, Mac slid his pipe into his pocket. As the car got closer, he realized the shape of the headlights were wrong to be Pratt's cruiser. Seeing the truck on the side of the road the Subaru Forester slowed down. Mac caught a glimpse inside of the three men from the bar. _Beautiful._ The man in the passenger seat, the one that had hit on Ronnie locked eyes with Mac and for a moment Mac was sure he saw fear in his eyes. A chuckle rose up in Mac's chest as he rounded the truck and hopped in, starting the engine. When his headlights came on, he could see the Forester swerve a bit and accelerate. Mac loved a challenge. He checked his hip for his knife and sped off after the hippy car, ready to finish out his fun for the night. Fucking and fighting. Two things Mac knew he was good at and would never stop doing. His truck, as old and run down as it looked, could handle a lot and quickly caught up to the little car, tapping the back end bumper and causing them to swerve again. The driver regained control and kept trying to put some distance between themselves and Mac but it wasn't working. Mac bumped the back end again, this time his right side hitting their left side and causing the Subaru to spin off on to the shoulder and into what was supposed to pass for a ditch.

Hopping out of his truck again, Mac had that overwhelming feeling of complete satisfaction knowing he was going to hurt these men. Not because they had disrespected Ronnie. Not because they started shit in Walter's bar. And not even because they had teased him about his appearance. Because they were pompous douche bags out in his desert and he wanted to fuck something up. There were hardly ever viable reasons why Mac chose the people he did to hurt. It was more times than not out of convenience. Just like Ronnie. She was an easy lay, so he took advantage. These men were easy targets. All bark and no bite and sometimes you have to put a barking dog in its place. Mac marched to the passenger side of the Subaru and flung the door open, grabbing the asshole by his hair.

"What the fuck man?" yelled the driver. Mac paid no attention. They would get theirs soon. Before the guy could even react, Mac had his knife out and buried to the hilt in his stomach. A flash of joy shown across Mac's face as the guy locked eyes with him and the only thing Mac could see was fear and regret. Mac shoved again, twisting a little forcing a spattering of blood to trickle out the corner of the mans mouth. The driver jumped out, followed by the guy in the back seat, both with looks of horror on their faces. The man from the back seat pulled out his cell phone like he was going to call for help, but as Mac drove the knife in again he looked the guy right in the eyes. As the trembling started the guy dropped his cell phone to the ground. The driver looked over at his friend as his iPhone shattered on the pavement and saw a dark spot forming around his crotch. Almost immediately the smell of urine filled the area.

Mac returned his focus to the man in his grasp. "I said I'd be seeing you. Stupid fuck." He pulled the knife from the mans mid-section and wiped the blood on his quivering cheek. He was shaking so badly Mac almost had a hard time keeping a grip on him. But there were two more over-cocky pricks he needed to take care of so he struck the back end of the knife across the guys temple, sending him in a crumple to the dusty, hard earth. Then his focus shifted to the other two. Mac rounded the car, the driver throwing his hands in the air in an attempt to show Mac he had meant no harm. Mac punched him hard in the face, knocking him backwards - the sound of his fist connecting with the mans nose making a crunching sound that slightly resonated in the night. The last guy, the one who had wet himself, started to cry.

"Please, please don't hurt me. I haven't done anything to you!" he wept.

"You're here. That is fucking enough for me." Mac roared striking him in the head and knocking him to the ground. He looked around. All three men laying on the ground either knocked out or writhing in pain. He strolled to his truck like he was full of pride for what he had accomplished thus far and grabbed some rope, then proceeded to bind their hands. One by one he heaped them into the back of his truck and drove out to the one place he knew he could continue to vent his rage - his cave. It wasn't actually a cave, but an abandoned mine shaft. Long forgotten, this place had been like a second home to him for as long as Mac could remember. If ever he felt at peace somewhere - it was there. He could escape from everything and anything that ever bothered him in that cave. It was where he did his finest work. Whether it was cooking up the little crystals he had come to adore, finding new and exciting ways to please himself with women that perhaps were not sincere about what they were looking for, or ridding the world of assholish pricks like the three men bouncing around in the bed of his truck right now - he always thought more clearly when he was there. No one ever bothered him when he was there and no one ever came looking.

Mac forced the men into the cave, hands still bound. Piss Boy was still crying and begging for his life, as if his life mattered to anyone in that moment. The man he had stabbed was starting to look pale, a color in his flesh Mac thought would look great on one of his drawings. If only he could capture that. He forced the men to sit on the ground, all of them dirty with sweat and blood.

"Shut up with your fucking whining!" Mac shrieked at Piss Boy. "It ain't gonna do you any good."

Piss Boy, lip shuddering, did his best to stop crying heaving in a deep breath of air.

"Jake are you okay?" the driver said as quiet as he could to the man who had been stabbed as Mac busied himself with another hit from his friendly pipe.

Jake moaned and did his best to look at his friend. "Fucking beautiful, Ryan. I'm dying here!"

Jake had spoken much louder than Ryan had, capturing Mac's attention again. The look on Mac's face would have put the fear of God into any man as he picked up a not-so-small rock from the ground and threw it at the mans head. For being all hopped up on meth, Mac's aim was perfect - the squishing sound of Jake's skin splitting open forcing a cringe on to the faces of his friends. "I said, shut the fuck up!"

Piss Boy, still maintaining enough calm to no longer cry forced the words from his throat. In his mind it almost sounded like someone else was saying them, "Are you going to kill us?"

Mac turned his unhappy gaze onto him as he spoke. "Bitch, I'll be doing you and this world a favor. Now I said, SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Mac cleared the distance between them and connected his size 10 boot with Piss Boy's stomach. Piss Boy heaved and threw up a disgusting yellow froth that wreaked of beer. He shot a glance at Ryan - the only one still fully coherent - and made it clear he best not say another word. Slowly he walked back to his pipe and sat on one of the many barrels that served as tables in his little work area. He knew what he wanted to accomplish - just not how. A few tokes and his mind would be where he wanted it. Murder was an art form and though he didn't fancy himself as some sort of genius, he knew he could be pretty inventive when it came to satisfying his urges to release his rage and frustrations. How was the only question.


	3. Chapter 3

Ronnie rolled over in her bed and hit the alarm. _Damn, it's too early._ She hated walking in to work, the mile or so would feel like ten today after last night. No matter what thoughts popped into her head about what her romp with Mac meant, part of her was glad it happened. All those months of wondering what he would be like and now she knew. As she crawled out of bed a pang of pain shot through her inner thigh. Mac certainly had been rough. _That just means he wanted you._ She let that thought take over so she didn't feel used by this man she had practically thrown herself at.

Showered and dressed, Ronnie went for her bag and realized she had left it in Mac's truck. He'd be in to give it back to her, she was sure. Time to go. As she was taking her familiar walk toward the Luna Mesa, she had to step out on to the shoulder when a local Garfield County sheriff sped by her in the direction she had just come. Harley. He never was too bright. Soon after, Sheriff Pratt's cruiser went by with almost the same amount of speed. Must be something exciting, she thought.

Walter smiled at Ronnie as she walked in to her second home. "How was the walk in, honey?"

"Fine, Walter. You see Pratt or Harley this morning?" Ronnie asked as she prepped her area and put on her apron.

"Not this morning. Why?"

"They were headed out toward the direction of my place, on the old highway this morning like they couldn't get there fast enough."

"Probably just some idiot tourist got himself dehydrated." Walter snickered at his own comment making Ronnie laugh in turn. She liked having moments like that with him. It wasn't often he acted goofy, but that was part of the reason she looked up to him. Walter smiled his crazy grin at her and went back about his business.

Most of the day had gone by and still no Mac. Every time someone would come in, Ronnie would eagerly glance at the door then feel stupid for doing so. Close to the end of her shift, Harley came walking in looking like he could use a drink. Walter looked at Ronnie as if to say, _please talk to him so I don't have to_.

Harley was not entirely bad to look at, but Ronnie hated talking to him. When he would get excited or nervous he would stutter, sometimes so badly she wanted to laugh. It was never because she wanted to make fun of him or be mean; she just thought it was funny. Ronnie was sure she would either piss him off our hurt his feelings and she didn't want to experience either. She walked over to him with a shy smile to take his order.

"Hey, Harley. What can I get for you tonight? You off duty?"

He let out a heavy sigh and sat down at the bar. "Just a beer, Ronnie. Yeah, I'm off duty. It has just been a rough day."

Ronnie didn't really want to have a conversation with him, but her curiosity was piqued about where he and Pratt had been driving to. Somewhere in the back of her mind she thought better about asking, but she had ventured in to new territory the night before with Mac and was feeling a bit more confidence in her ability to deal with things. _What harm could it do?_ "Where were you and the Sheriff heading off to this morning in such a hurry? Is that why you feel so rough?"

Walter handed Harley a beer and went back to what he was previously doing. Harley nodded at him and tipped the bottle in his direction before practically slamming the whole thing in one drink. Ronnie was sure the look she gave him reflected a bit of concern and as Harley pulled the bottle away from his mouth, he coughed a little - beer spittle landing on his chin and uniform shirt. "Damn tourist got themselves lost or something last night. W-We were out there all day looking for them, but couldn't find them. Just an abandoned vehicle and a b-b-broken cell ph-ph-phone." he finally spit out.

Ronnie looked over at Walter, who seemed interested in the fact that tourists had gone missing. She could tell he was listening to the conversation - even as he served other customers. "Tourists go missing all the time here though, don't they? They Canyon can be deceiving to someone who's never been out there."

"That's the t-t-truth, Ronnie. Guess Sheriff Pratt has some heat on this one because when w-we ran the plates, turns out one of the guys is the son of some State Senator from up around Ogden." He took the last swig of his beer and turned his attention to Walter. "You get any tourists in here yesterday, Walter?"

The look on Walter's face would have made Ronnie like to forget she had ever asked the question, but then it faded in to a smile. His accent thick at times, he grumbled back, "We always get the occasional tourist. Would you be asking about a specific type?" He looked aggravated to even be answering questions.

Ronnie could tell that Harley was not going to continue the conversation. He looked uncomfortable. Harley never was one to be assertive. If not for the fact that Pratt was his uncle, he likely never would have landed a job as a Garfield County Sheriff. Certainly he would never make it back in Salt Lake City. "It's okay, Walter. I think the Sheriff will be in at some point with pictures. He is trying to keep the trouble out of the Canyon, so hopefully the k-kid will show up soon and we can be done with it." He threw a few bucks on the bar and nodded at Ronnie, placing his hat back on his head as he exited the Luna Mesa. Ronnie looked over at Walter who gave no reaction and went back to drying his drinking glasses.

Mac started to stir in his bed. As he forced his eyes open he felt he was drenched in sweat. The damn generator must have tripped or ran out of gas because the air was not moving in the house and everything was dark. As he started to sit and stretch out any aches and pains from the previous night of mischief, he realized there was someone knocking on his door. "Just a damn minute!" He tried to yell, but his mouth was dry and he really wasn't as coherent as he should be. The words came out as no more than whisper.

As the pounding on the door continued, he could hear a familiar voice calling out his name. "Fuck." he said quietly. _Walter._ Not the person he wanted to see, not that he really wanted to see anyone. Mac stood and stretched out his arms attempting to get the tingling feeling to stop in his fingertips. "I said just a damn minute! I'm comin', I'm comin'!" This time loud enough for Walter to hear. Or at least Mac thought he heard because the pounding stopped. Running his fingers through his dusty hair, he shuffled out to the front door and threw the bolt. "Fuck, Walter, what do you want?" He looked at the old man like he was taunting him.

Walter stepped inside, not waiting to be invited and even though Mac stepped out of the way he shot Walter a look of annoyance at the invasion of his space. "Sure, come right on in, old man."

"You best watch your tone with me boy." the look in Walter's eyes, seen only by the light of the moon, making Mac stand a little straighter.

There were few things in this world that made Mac change his tune. A run in with the law, even the local rubes, and he usually played innocent. He could be charming if he wanted to, even with his meth-rotted grin and the scabs and scars from years of picking at things that didn't exist. Though he had spent many a drunken night sleeping it off in the local jail, he had never been convicted of anything. Not even assault. Every public fight he'd been in was rendered as a misunderstanding and no one had ever pressed charges. Sometimes he attributed that to the fact that the local users in town knew he was the one cooking the shit up and they wanted what he had. Mac was not afraid to turn away a sale. For him, it was never about the money. He never saw a great deal of it anyway. Enough to keep him in the things he wanted, but he never wanted much. The only thing he ever really wanted was a place of his own. He didn't want to live in the shadow of his father and pompous little half-brother anymore. And even though his half-brother never lived with him and his dad, he knew that little prick was his dad's favorite. Devon was the apple of his father's eye. He was the product of a relationship that made Mac's stomach turn because his father had professed his love toward the mother and she ended up running off with some other blow hard to LA because her family didn't approve of his Hispanic origins.

That was the age when Mac decided love was for suckers. Mac was around 10 years old when Devon was born. Up to that point, there were few things that bothered him. School and other kids, but he loved coming home, playing with all the dogs, taking them on long walks out in the desert and finding new and interesting ways to destroy shit. He was a rowdy boy, like most young boys. He also loved his father, and even though his dad could be harsh and sometimes downright cruel he always sought to please him. Part of him wanted his dad to be proud of him. That was until Devon came along. Their father pampered Devon and gave him all the things he would never let Mac have. Not that Mac ever cared about stuff, it was the attention he craved and in the end - Devon got it all. Every time Mac would try and show his father he was the better son, he would be shown otherwise in word and deed by this man they shared. He would grow to hate Devon, even though he only ever saw him during summer breaks when his mom would want to vacation out at the Canyon. The reality was she was coming out to bang the man she left. The man whose child she was raising. The man standing in Mac's living room giving him the evil eye for his attitude.

"Sorry, Pop. You just woke me up. Tied one on good last night, ya know?"

"Why aren't your fucking lights on? And why is it so damned not in here?" Walter fussed, waving his chubby hands around.

Mac looked at his dad, deciding not to say anything else and went to see why the generator had shut off. After fussing with it for a few minutes the familiar rumble came on and the lamps on the outside of the property kicked on illuminating the yard. It wasn't much of a yard. Like every other house out here, it was just dirt and bushes. Though Mac had a wicked collection of half finished projects laying around collecting rust and wasps nests from lack of progress. He walked back into his house and closed the door. "What's up, Pop? To what do I owe this pleasure?" Mac was trying to keep an even tone, even though part of him was hoping he would piss his dad off.

Walter looked around Mac's place. It was void of most furniture that houses had. He had very few possessions, and a lot of the stuff he used in the 'lab' was stored here. The one thing that was in abundance was artwork. If you wanted to call it that. Mac had a habit that started at a young age of drawing things repetitively. Like he was trying to perfect one or two images, though he never seemed to master any of them. There were drawings covering nearly every wall of spiders or bugs and a mans face. Mac liked to say he was spewing hatred. Walter hated the drawings, and usually made it clear that it was just another thing that made Mac the lesser son.

"Those assholes from the bar last night, they went missing. You didn't have anything to do with that, did you?" Walter spoke sternly. "The last thing I need is some state police coming in to the Canyon and investigating because you couldn't control yourself."

Mac started to feel nervous. He wanted to draw something to get his head around the answer he wanted to give. His finger started moving in the air by his side, drawing a spider in him mind and trying to focus. "I didn't do shit. And why would the state police get involved in some missing person case anyway?"

"Because one of those fools was the son of a state senator. I mean it Mac, if you did anything you better make fucking sure there is nothing - and I mean NOTHING - that leads it back to either of us. You ruin the operation and I will kill you myself. You always were a worthless fuck up." Walters words were the only ones that ever cut Mac.

"Well, like I said, Pop. I didn't do shit. You got nothin' to worry about. There ain't no evidence of nothing, because there ain't nothin' to find." Mac looked in his fathers eyes, knowing full well that Walter knew what Mac had done. "Anything else?"

"Not tonight. But maybe you should lay low for a few days, hopefully Pratt and Harley will find them boys dehydrated out in desert and we can go about our lives. Business as usual. Got it?" Walter always spoke so sternly to him.

"Sure thing, Pop. Whatever you say."

Walter left, leaving Mac feeling deflated. He walked in to his bedroom and rummaged around for one of the tins he kept stashed at the top of his closet. After rolling a joint, he grabbed a beer and sat down at his drawing table. Tonight he would try and improve upon 'the man spewing hatred'. Intently he scribbled, fading deeper and deeper in to the zone where nothing else mattered but what he was doing. One line at a time, he felt farther and farther away from the man that made him feel so small. _Lay low for a few days. _Not a bad idea.


	4. Chapter 4

Life in the Canyon was usually pretty mellow. The past week had shattered that groove with the presence of state police, secret service and even two FBI agents. The locals were pretty leery towards other forms of law enforcement, because even though Pratt would occasionally take people in to sleep off their drunk - he hardly ever actually arrested people. He played that off as living in a safe, close knit community. The reality was he turned a blind eye to most things that took place as long as he could take off and go fishing whenever he wanted to. Haydon Pratt was just an old man set in his ways and changes to him, like everyone else in the Canyon were far more than just an inconvenience, but a total disturbance in their way of life.

Utah State Senator Edmond Howard Crowley had made a statement on the television, flashing pictures of his missing son, Edgar and his friends Jacob Bloxham and Ryan DuFour. The Senator pleaded for anyone with information to come forward. The Canyon had been completely scoured over the past week with no signs of anything other than the abandoned car and the broken cell phone. Even though state CSI teams had come out looking for hints of foul play and evidence had been collected showing someone was bleeding at the site the car had been abandoned, the senator was afraid if someone was holding his son hostage they would kill him if too much got out on the news. So, up to this point the media was treating it like a missing persons case. In the end, it was. Despite having blood evidence near the car they had nothing else. There were lots of car tracks, lots of foot traffic and apparently when Harley got to the car that first morning, he put his hands over so much of it, the FBI could hardly even make out the prints of the men that had actually been in the car.

Mac sat at the end of the bar at the Luna Mesa avoiding his father's stare. Walter was pissed that all this fuss was being made, knowing full well that Mac and his wretched impulses were the reason for the uproar. Ronnie had tried to say hello to Mac when he came in; this was the first time she had seen him since their night together. As she started to walk toward him his glower made her think twice. At first, she was hurt and wanted to say something about him just using her for sex. Then she noticed how tense things were between Mac and Walter and decided Mac was probably just stressed. Perhaps they would be able to talk later on when her shift was over.

Reaching for the bottle of whiskey that was sitting near him at the bar, Mac went to pour himself another drink. Walter walked up and placed his hand near the bottle giving Mac a firm look of disapproval. Mac looked Walter in the eyes and downed the shot, then threw his hands in the air. "You done with Ronnie for the night?" Mac asked, trying to get his dad to stop looking at him like he wanted to kill him.

"Why do you ask?" Walter grimaced.

"Thought I'd give her a ride home again. She shouldn't be walking around with all these strangers in town." Mac did his best to sound sincere, but Walter knew Mac's bullshit all too well. Tonight, it would seem, he did not care though. The presence of all these other law enforcement entities in town was too unnerving for Walter. Having Mac come out and play while they were all still in town was the last thing he needed. Sheriff Pratt may be aloof most days, but he knew Mac was the trouble maker in town and if the heat got too intense his fat, sloppy ass may just cave and give away his boy. Walter would not have that. Mac was important to the operation. He knew too much and finding someone willing and able to cook up all the meth Mac did would be nearly impossible.

Ronnie had not heard Mac ask Walter about her, so when Mac called out her name her heart stopped beating for what felt like a whole minute. "Ronnie, come on, girl. I'll take you home." Mac gave that wry smile that drove Ronnie wild. She looked at Walter who only gave a nod like it was okay. She started walking toward Mac, handing Walter her apron when a man walked through the door. He looked very out of place in the Canyon and definitely out of place for the Luna Mesa, wearing a black suit and tie; his shoes were shiny and reflected the cheap lighting of the bar. Ronnie looked over at Walter to see if she wanted her to serve this guy before leaving. The look on Walter's face was the most angry she had ever seen him, so instinctively she asked the man if she could help him.

"Maybe, I am looking for a guy, goes by the name of Mac?" The slender man sounded very professional and had little to no expression on his face.

Mac was getting antsy again. Ronnie saw him bite his lip, but he maintained his cool as he responded to the man. "I'm Mac. Who wants to know?"

The man reached into his lapel pocket and pulled out a badge, flashing it at Mac. "Special Agent Bill Snyder. Salt Lake City Bureau." Mac looked at Snyder, totally unimpressed. "I was told I would likely find you here, Mister...?" Snyder paused, waiting for Mac to give him his full name. Mac just continued to stare the special agent waiting to hear what he had to say. He really wanted to look over at Walter, but he held his ground and kept his eyes locked on Agent Snyder's. The agent glanced at Ronnie, then back at Mac. "Right, so it has been told to myself and my partner that you have a reputation, Mac," saying his name like he was paying Mac an insult. "One that is a bit unsavory."

Mac continued to focus on Snyder's face, doing his best to read him. "What does my unsavory reputation have to do with anything?" keeping his calm.

"Where were you last Saturday night?" Snyder asked, not backing down from Mac's little staring contest.

"I was here."

"Where were you after the place closed?"

"Why? What difference does that make?" Mac's heart starting to pick up a bit. He had never had to deal with the likes of an FBI agent before and Special Agent Bill Snyder was no Haydon Pratt. This man seemed to actually care about his job and somehow that actually brought a twinge of fear in to Mac. As he stood there waiting for Snyder to reply, Mac thought about that twinge. _Would it make a difference? I could kill this guy right now and all we have to say is he never came in to the bar. _That was stupid and Mac knew it, but the thought made him crack a smile. For the first time, Snyder looked uneasy.

"It makes all the difference, Mac. All the difference in the world. People who have alibis are not usually suspects. People who don't, well, let's just say the person with no alibi will soon become someone I spend so much time with their friends will think we're dating. So, _Mac_, where were you last Saturday night... _after the bar closed._"

Mac struggled to figure out what to say. He could be savvy and was usually perfect at running the bull shit as thin as it would go, but his only real option was to lie and say he was with Ronnie that night. He had been, but he had also been the one that pulled Piss Boy Crowley fearful and whimpering in to his cave. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If he lied and said he was with Ronnie all night, she would likely say it wasn't true and Walter would be pissed that Mac had violated Walter's little girl. It really chafed Mac that Walter cared more about Ronnie. _Fuck him. Fuck that infirm old crotch jockey. _He knew he couldn't stand there much longer not answering Snyder's question, but he continued to say nothing. If he said he was home alone the guy would never get off his back. _Who the hell told Snyder he had an unsavory reputation?_

Ronnie could see Mac was growing more uncomfortable. Her heart was pounding. She could not say she was in love with Mac, but she cared enough and if there was one thing Walter had taught her since she had been in Caineville, it was that the people here take care of their own. She shifted uncomfortable, working up the courage to say something - anything - that could help Mac and bring peace back to the area. "Mac was with me last Saturday night."

All three men looked at Ronnie, each with a different expression - Walter looked shocked, Mac relieved and a bit surprised. Snyder, on the other hand, looked skeptical. "Mac was with you?" He looked Ronnie up and down hoping he could get her to cave. His life would be easier if he could just arrest a scum bag like Mac and be the hero.

"Yes. All night." She looked over at Walter, hoping he would understand.

"You don't seem so sure about that." Snyder glanced at Walter to see his reaction. Walter just continued to look at Ronnie. There was almost a glint of sorrow in his eyes. Walter was the reason Mac had turned out to be such a bastard. He was never much of a father and he knew it, but he didn't care. In his mind right now, this was about business not his stupid ass son.

"Why would I not be sure?" Ronnie was keeping her courage to speak up strong. Seeing that Snyder was looking at Walter still and pulling out a small memo pad from his pocket, she nervously gave Mac a smile.

Snyder turned his attention back to Ronnie. "And what is your name, young lady?" preparing to write it down.

"Veronica Gibbs."

"And you work here?"

"Yes." The simple answers made the situation easier.

"And how old are you, Miss Gibbs?" eyes darting between his pad and her.

"I'm 21."

"Do you have ID proving that? You have to be 21 to be serving drinks here. I would hope I won't have to get anyone in trouble for having a minor serving alcohol." Snyder was becoming a bit uppity.

"I do. My bag is in Mac's truck." Mac looked at her confused. "Can I go grab it?"

Snyder nodded and Ronnie swiftly went out to the beat up old truck hoping Mac hadn't thrown it out or moved it , not remembering what it was. To her relief, it was still on the rusty floorboard. She dug around inside for her wallet and let out a small sigh of relief. As she entered the bar again she handed her ID to Snyder. He looked over it and back at her, confirming the ID to be real. "So you two are a couple then?

Mac shifted a bit. Being associated with anything so lovely as a couple made him more uneasy than being questioned by the FBI. He would never be part of a couple. He would never be in love. If Ronnie said yes, he thought it might just be easier to confess to whatever they wanted him too just to not have to be part of a couple.

"No. We're not a couple. We're just friends." With each lie, she felt stronger. There was something liberating about making things up and helping Mac out.

"Friends with benefits?" Snyder asked rudely.

Mac got an incredulous look on his face. "Now how is that any of your damn business?" He said stepping a little closer to Snyder.

Snyder put a hand up letting Mac know he had stepped as close as he was going to. "Just wondering why you were staying the night with a buddy who happens to be a hot young female."

"That really isn't any of your business, Agent Snyder. Mac was with me. You asked where he was and now you have your answer. Is there anything else you need?" The rush of adrenaline felt amazing. Ronnie was thinking she could really get used to this. Being afraid always seemed hard, making life difficult. It took a long time to reach this point, but she was not feeling any fear at this point.

Agent Snyder did not appear pleased with the lack of cooperation, but Ronnie and Mac were right. For now. There was nothing he could do if Mac had an alibi unless somewhere along the line he caught them lying. "Fine. I thank you for your time then. Please just stick around town in case we need to talk to you again."

Mac and Ronnie both nodded and Agent Snyder left the Mesa without saying another word. Mac turned and looked at Walter who was still very clearly unhappy. "You can take her home now. Not another word, you hear me?" He turned and walked into the back.

They got into Mac's truck and pulled away from the Mesa. Ronnie felt like she had accomplished something tremendous. Mac was not talking and she could not tell what he was thinking. He looked flustered as he drove, but kept completely silent until they pulled up in front of Ronnie's house. She sat there for a moment, not sure what to say or do. She wanted to invite Mac in, especially since she had not seen him in a week. Skittishly she asked, "Would you like to come inside?"

Mac never looked at her. He got out of the truck and walked right in to her house. When she entered behind him, she saw him pull a little tin out of his pocket and sniff something up his nose. Placing the tin back in his pocket he started to pace. Finally, he looked over at her. "Why did you lie back there?"

"What do you mean? I didn't lie. You were with me that night." she tried to sound coy.

"Not the whole night, Ronnie. Damn it! Walter is going to be pissed at me that I violated his little golden girl. He is going to give me all kinds of shit for that. Shit I don't want to deal with!" His voice rising as he started to pick at one of the scabs on his arm.

"Oh, come on, Mac. I helped you. Whatever you did with those men - it's covered now. I'll be your alibi." She leaned up against her kitchen sink, crossing her arms in upset that he was not more thankful for her sacrifice.

Mac shot a dirty look at her, before she could react he was right in her face, fist balled up like he was going to strike her. "What do you know? You don't know shit! Do something to those men. Why do you think it was me? You don't know me. We fucked. Once! And you think you're the authority on me now?" He started pacing again, scratching his head and huffing out air like he wanted to scream. "I don't need your damn help, Ronnie. We're not a fucking couple. I can take care of my damn self. And those men and any other asshole that gets in my fucking way!"

Ronnie could feel anger rising in her for the first time in her life. Normally she retracted and withdrew when someone yelled at her. She had never really had the opportunity to help someone and now that she had, she was being yelled at for the courtesy. "Fuck you, Mac. I was trying to help you! You're nothing but an asshole!"

Mac darted across the room again and this time he did strike her. An open handed slap with his brutish hand right across her mouth. Ronnie felt her lip split and could taste blood in her mouth. When her eyes started to water, she couldn't tell if she was actually going to cry or if was just her body's reaction to the pain. As she pulled her head back up to meet his gaze, he stepped in close again - this time not to hit her. He scooped her up and set her on the kitchen counter planting a heated kiss on the lips he just busted open. Ronnie could feel his hands roaming over her body, touching her inner thighs and around her lower back so he could pull her closer to him. She was completely unsure why, but she reacted to him the way her body shouldn't. Immediately turned on she started to kiss him back, reaching for the button on his pants and undoing them. He started to kiss her neck and she let out a slow groan of approval. Mac pulled her off the counter, her wrapping her legs around him and he whispered, "Come to daddy, I got you."

In the past she would have wanted to run away but there was something in that moment that changed for her. She pulled her upper body away from him and slapped him across the face. "Don't call yourself daddy!" the stern look on her face catching Mac off guard. He smiled at the fact she had hit him, all this only turning him on more. Carrying her to the bedroom, he threw her on the bed demanding she take her clothes off. Ronnie was one step ahead, already removing her pants eagerly awaiting another session with this man that could be so vile and yet so attractive at the same time. Mac slid over the top of her, the feel of his breath slowly caressing her skin as he made his way up to meet her mouth again in an aggressive kiss. He was rough, gripping her thighs tightly and twisting her in ways she would have never imagined. With each thrust she would forget about him hitting her in anger. Nothing else mattered except the moment she was in and every time she buried her nails into his back he only became more engaged in the violent manner in which he ravished her. She felt his thumb press up against her throat restricting her air just enough for her head to spin but never stopped enjoying the experience.

Good, bad or ugly - she was going to be dedicated to this man.


	5. Chapter 5

Haydon Pratt sounded like a chainsaw running out of gas when he slept. He choked and chortled; had you been in the same room with him you would think he was dying from the number of times he would stop breathing before gasping for air and going back into his monstrous snore. It used to drive his wife crazy. She would say the 35 years they were married she probably only slept through the night 1 full year. Haydon had loved his Elizabeth. When she passed away he changed, giving in to a lot of the crime and smut that took place in his district. Elizabeth had been his conscience and now that she was gone he would just stuff the bad deeds he witnessed deep down inside and have himself a drink so he didn't have to hear his late wife's voice telling him he was falling from grace.

As Haydon slept as soundly as he ever had, he did not notice the man walk in to his bedroom and sit in Elizabeth's favorite chair. The windows in the bedroom were open, a slight breeze causing the sheer flower-patterned curtains to flutter. The man lit up a cigarette and began to smoke, starring at the heap of human lying in the old country bed. When the man cleared his throat loudly, Haydon snorted awake, choking on his spit and coughing in turn. The man in the chair took a long, slow drag off his cigarette and leaned forward into the light being cast from outside. Haydon struggled to situate his rotund body in to a sitting position.

Rubbing his eyes, "Walter, is that you?" He reached for the lamp on his bedside table when the man broke his silence.

"Haydon." Walter's scratchy voice rang out not sounding very pleased at all. "No need for the light. This will not take long." Haydon hesitated and then thought best to heed Walter and left the light off. "An FBI agent came in to my place tonight looking for Mac. He said he had heard rumor that Mac has a not-so-good reputation around here." Walter slowly made his way from Elizabeth's chair to the side of the bed and sat next to the sheriff. He could see the beads of sweat formed on Haydon's forehead and bare chest, the man's breathing labored by years of bad food, no exercise and now fear. "Mac is a lot of things, Sheriff. But the people of the Canyon depend on him. You of all people should depend on him."

Shaking and struggling to keep his composure, "I don't know what you're getting at Walter, but I never said nothing to those FBI folks about Mac. I swear!"

Walter took another long drag off his cigarette, "Just remember - for all the horrible things you know about us, we know an equal amount about you. You think I don't have ways of proving that money has changed hands? Do you think the people in the wealthier areas of Garfield County would want you as their sheriff if they knew all the things you overlook? You would be thrown out on your ass so quick not even the good lord could clean up the shit storm that would cause." Walter looked Pratt in the eyes and a small grin came on to his face. Pratt shivered just before the searing pain shot through him as Walter put his cigarette out in the center of his chest. Haydon wanted to speak, but Walter leaned in close making him gasp for air as tears slowly ran down his cheeks; the smell of burnt hair was filling his nostrils. "You make this right, Haydon. You get those people off Mac's back - do we understand each other?"

Haydon just shook his head rigorously in compliance. Walter patted him on his large stomach and exited the room. When the door shut behind him, Haydon took in a great gasp of air. Hands shaking he reached over and turned on the lamp, then reached in to the nightstand and grabbed a small bottle of pills. As he popped one, he clutched his chest trying to catch his breath and felt a deep stabbing where the cigarette had burned his flesh. _Walter is right. If they go down, I am going down with them._ Haydon walked into his tiny bathroom and cleaned the sweat away from the burn as it had started to make it sting even worse.

Donna Velasquez sat in the passenger side of a black Suburban waiting for her partner to return. She hated being out in the middle of hell. Being in Utah was bad enough. When she was assigned to the Utah division of the FBI she thought she was being punished. Her scores had been high at Quantico, but she just knew the reason she got sent to bum-fuck Egypt was because of the affair. She never should have slept with her commanding officer, but he was just so damn hot. It was one night and meant nothing to her - just a fun romp with a guy that was good with a gun and good with his hands. For Marshall Blakely it was something else. He wanted more and Donna was not willing to give him that. So after graduation, Blakely's _suggestion_ for where Donna should be stationed was Salt Lake City, smack dab in the middle of a place where God apparently did not exist. If he did, it would not be so damn arid. Now, to make things worse, some pompous Ogden senator had his son go missing forcing her and her partner to have to drive out to someplace even more isolated and dry. She hated looking out across the barren landscape and watching the heat vapors rising off the desert floor. It made her eyes water and a few times she was sure she saw things that were not really there.

Special Agent Bill Snyder returned to the SUV and handed Velazquez a cup of coffee. "Drink that. It'll put hair on your chest." Bill snickered as he handed her a cup of really bad coffee from inside the Rodeway Inn. "These people aren't much for talking. I swear, these back-country, tight-lipped motherfuckers. We are never going to find out what happened to these stupid kids if no one is going to talk." Bill took a sip from the small Styrofoam cup and cringed at the taste, then took another sip as if the first one was just to deaden his taste buds.

Donna took a drink of her coffee and shot Bill a look of disgust. "You're really a sick bastard, you know that Snyder?" He flashed his almost perfect smile at her and she rolled her eyes. "So nothing then from that man you were supposed to find at the bar? The guy Sheriff Pratt told us about?"

"I found the guy. Mac. He's fucking creepy as all get out. You can tell just by looking at him he's up to no good, but he has an alibi. He was shacked up with some waitress the night Crowely and his buddies went missing. I mean, as long as the girl is telling the truth - he's not our man. If there even is a man. Sure Crowely's phone was broken, but that really doesn't mean anything. The car was full of beer cans, weed in the glove box - hell, I wouldn't be surprised if they ate a bunch of shrooms, wandered in to the desert and got themselves eaten by coyotes or something stupid like that. The only reason this case matters so much is because of the senator."

"Those are someone's kids, Snyder. Wouldn't you want someone looking if it were Molly?" Velasquez looked over at her partner raising an eye brow.

"Molly never gets to go off on her own. She can stay at home forever." Bill laughed and took another sip of the horrid beverage.

"Yeah, easy for you to say now when she's only five. Wait until she is sixteen and wants to start dating boys."

"Never happen."

"She'll never want to date boys?"

"No, she'll never be sixteen. I'll figure out a way to put her in a time bubble or something - keep her five forever." Just as he finished speaking, a crackle came over the radio.

The voice over the CB was Harley Denison, the idiot Agents Snyder and Velasquez were being forced to work with because there were no other sheriff deputies in Garfield County that knew the area as well as he did. "A-a-are you there, S-s-snyder?" Harley's voice sputtered.

Snyder looked over at Velasquez and mocked Harley. "I'm here, Officer Denison. Where are you at?"

The crackle came back on and the agents could hear Harley fumbling with his words away from the CB mic. "Almost there. Over."

"Copy that. Out." Snyder hung the CB mic back up. "What an idiot. It's like working with Barney Fucking Fife."

Velasquez chuckled. "Worse. Barney Fife only got one bullet, Andy kept the rest. Pratt is no Andy."

"That's a scary fucking thought, Don. You can be an outright bitch sometimes, you know that?" As they both had a good laugh, Harley pulled up in his cruiser. It was hard to not want to tease him, he carried himself like a modern day Wyatt Earp - thumbs looped over his service belt and always wearing his hat. They exited their vehicle and walked over to Harley, greeting him with total professionalism.

"Morning Special Agents." Harley managed to get out without a single stammer, as if he had been practicing.

"Right," Snyder said admiring the desert landscape. "So we need for you to show us where this Mac guy lives. I am also going to need for you to show me where that waitress from the bar lives, Veronica?"

Harley snapped his gaze to Snyder. "Ronnie? What does she h-h-have to d-do with any of this?"

Donna held back her smile. "Well, apparently she is screwing the guy. We need to try and verify of that is true and accurate information."

The look on Harley's face was pure confusion. He had known Ronnie for all the years she had been in Caineville and never once had he seen her with a man. Now she was in a relationship with Mac? How was that possible? He had wanted to ask her out on several occasions. He loved her flaxen hair and dark eyes. Her skin was pale, almost snow white which stood out in the desert. She reminded him of winter - something the Canyon hardly ever saw and when it did come it didn't last long enough. Harley was by no means in love with her - not even obsessed. The idea of Ronnie choosing someone like Mac over him kind of irked him though. Mac was a brute - dirty, nasty, vile and mean. Harley also knew that had Mac never gotten started using the drugs he cooked up that he would be a very appealing man. _Perhaps she doesn't notice his scabs and rotting teeth._

As Harley stood there thinking about Ronnie and Mac together, he remembered the phone call he had received from Haydon earlier that morning. Pratt made it very clear that Harley was to do everything and anything to keep the FBI off Mac's scent in case he did have something to do with this whole fiasco. Inside, Harley knew it was wrong to mislead anyone from the bureau, but staying in his uncle's good graces meant more. One thing he had in his favor and he knew was no one took him seriously. Clearing his throat, "Mac's house I can take you too. Just be careful cause he has a dog that doesn't take kindly to strangers."

"I am not afraid of a dog, Denison." Snyder chided. "I just want to see where he lives. Can't take a guy like that at his word."

"A guy like what?" Harley retorted, trying to keep his cool and help his uncle out. "Mac has no criminal record."

Snyder shot a look of doubt at Velasquez. "Really? Well, we've had a hard time finding anything on him at all. His truck is registered to the man at the bar - a Walter Ramirez. I could not find a single thing on Mac because no one will tell me his full name. Everyone just says his name is Mac, like he's some sort of flipping diva. Do you know his real name?"

Harley felt a twinge of satisfaction well up inside of him that he knew more than the FBI. "Yes, his name is Walter Ramirez. Mac is just a nickname his dad gave him when he was a kid."

"The bartender is that guys father? Are you yanking my chain, Denison?" Snyder said trying not to sound smug.

"I'm not y-y-y-y." Harley paused and composed himself. "I'm not pulling anything. I'm the one that lives here, remember? You'll f-find him under Walter Ramirez Junior. No middle name. And you'll see he has no record. He can come off as a bad guy because of his appearance, but he really has never caused us trouble outside of the occasional argument at the Luna Mesa." He finished feeling like his uncle would have been proud of him.

"We'll run that, thank you Harley." Velasquez said trying to ease some of the testosterone flowing between the two men.

The agents got into the cruiser with Harley. As he drove out to Mac's place they cruised by Ronnie's house and Harley pointed it out to them. They noticed Mac's red pick-up parked out front and Velasquez asked Harley to stop and park someplace where they could watch the house. Harley complied and pulled off the side of the road, Ronnie's house in plain sight.

Mac woke up with a splitting headache. He had really over done himself the night before. When he looked over, gaining his bearings, he mentally kicked himself for spending the night with Ronnie. _She better not think this means I care about her or something._ As he lay there rubbing his eyes, Ronnie stirred. She let out a soft groan and looked at Mac shocked he was still there and had not taken off in the middle of the night. So she did not feel like she could try and cuddle or anything, Mac quickly sat up at the edge of the bed and stretched. Ronnie wanted to reach out to him and run her fingertips down his spine or over the claw marks she had left in his back but she resisted.

Coughing, Mac got up and walked into her living room, quickly running back in with a look on his face like he had seen a ghost.

"What is wrong, Mac?" she said sitting up.

"Fucking cop car parked outside your house." he said as he started pacing. He was good at pacing. If there was an award for it, Mac would win.

Ronnie looked at him confused and walked to the living room window, only to see the object of Mac's anxiety. "It's that FBI agent from the bar and Harley. Looks like there is someone else in the car too, but I can't see who."

"They're here for me. Shit. Walter is going to fucking kill me!"

Ronnie walked up to him and placed her hands on him. As she did, he flinched a bit at the feel of her touch on his bare chest. It was so gentle and almost felt like there was affection in it and the thought made his stomach tie into knots. "They just want to see we weren't lying. This is perfect and can work into our favor."

Mac scowled at her. "_Our_ favor? You're not the one they want!"

"Calm down, Mac. If you act nervous they are going to think you are up to no good. Look, we'll give them a show. Grab your things - I am sure you want to be on your way anyhow."

He didn't know what to think of her. He had been with a lot of women, but he never had one in his life so willing to help him before and it was more than unnerving. He walked into her room and slid his shirt on, grabbing his boots. Ronnie walked him to the door and as she reached for the doorknob, he grabbed her arm, stopping her. "You're in your panties." He pointed out trying to sound like he didn't care.

"Yep. They want to see that we are truly intimate with each other - this will give them what they want." she smiled and went for the door again.

"We're not intimate, Ronnie. We're fuck buddies. Not lovers."

Ronnie couldn't help but feel that anger rise inside her again. She was starting to enjoy anger. "Yeah, that's clear asshole. You want my help or not?"

Mac let her arm go and she put a smile on her face and opened the door shooing Mac outside. He stepped on to the steps that passed as a porch and Ronnie stepped out behind him in nothing but her panties and a white t-shirt. As Mac stepped down off the steps, she placed her hand on his shoulder and spun him around. The smile never leaving her face, she leaned over and kissed him gently on the mouth. It was too affectionate for Mac so he just stood there, not kissing her back. Fortunately for them, no one in the cruiser could see Mac's expression. When Ronnie pulled back from the kiss she could see Mac almost had a look of disgust on the face so she gently slapped him across the cheek. It was a playful gesture and Mac realized she was just playing for the FBI. He stepped closer to her and grabbed her ass, pulling her close to him and kissed her in the same gruff manner he usually did. It made Ronnie's head spin when he roughed her up like that. He pulled away and walked to his truck starting it up and driving away. She stood there watching as his truck took off and she swore she saw Mac flip Harley the bird. She just giggled and slowly walked back inside making sure that FBI agent got a good look at her nearly naked state, feeling stronger and more brazen with each bad deed she performed.


	6. Chapter 6

Walter had made himself busy all day, not really talking to Ronnie. She knew that he was peeved that she had hooked up with the likes of Mac. He wasn't giving her dirty looks or anything, but he was certainly more distant than he ever had been. After almost a full day of no conversation with him that was not job related, she finally broke the silence.

"Walter?" she smiled.

"Yes, Veronica?"

Her face went said, hearing his tone. "Are you mad at me?"

Walter stopped what he was doing and looked at her. He never had a daughter and had imaged she would be as close to one as he would ever get. A deep sigh exited his mouth before he spoke. "No, Ronnie. I am not mad at you. A little bothered by your choice in men." He went back to cleaning the bar.

"Mac is a little rough around the edges, but I feel a connection with him. I think we both had rough childhoods. It's not like I love him or anything." Her thoughts drifted off. Mac had made it clear numerous times that they were not in a relationship. She was okay with what they had going and now he kind of needed her, so that was nice as well. It was interesting to her that her thought process has shifted so dramatically since her first night with Mac. It was hard to not want to thank him for breaking her out of the shell she had formed from a life of unhappiness. Maybe part of it was that she didn't really have other friends. Getting close to people was always too scary, but now she had been thrown into a situation she felt she could not walk away from. She knew she had lied to the FBI. If the truth ever came out she would be in trouble and that was not something she wanted to deal with, so for better or worse she would have to see this through until the investigation was over.

"Did he tell you his childhood was rough?" Walter asked abruptly.

Ronnie thought for a moment before responding. "No. He doesn't talk much at all. I just assumed. I could be wrong, but he is so unafraid of everything. I want to be able to deal with life the way he does. I want to be that strong."

Walter rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. "He's a junkie, Ronnie. You don't want that."

Part of her wanted to rush to Mac's defense. It was true he used - she had seen it with her own eyes. "Maybe not the drugs, Walter. I'm not interested in that. But I want to not be scared anymore. He's helping me with that even if he doesn't realize it."

"He help you with that cut on your lip?" Walter pointed.

Ronnie reached up and gently touched the corner of her mouth. Mac liked things rough but it didn't bother her. As aggressive as he was in bed everything always felt so amazing. He explored every part of her body when they were together and even though he could be forceful, it never felt bad. In fact, it was the freest she had ever felt. No one had ever made Ronnie feel the way Mac did and she wasn't going to give that up easily. If that meant letting Mac smack her around then she was all for it. He had never hit her and left. It always led to more and that was the part she enjoyed. "It was not in hate, Walter. Please just don't be mad at him. He didn't force me to do anything I have not wanted to do."

Just as Walter was going to respond, Agents Snyder and Velasquez walked in to the Luna Mesa. Walter's expression went sour. Ronnie hopped into waitress mode, trying to relieve Walter of any more misery. "Hello." Agent Snyder spoke.

"Hello, Special Agent. Can I get you two a drink?" Ronnie did her best to sound perky.

"No thank you, we're on duty. Plus it's only like noon." Velasquez said in a tone that made Ronnie cringe inside. Like Velasquez thought she was better than the other patrons in the bar who were already drinking.

"Then how can I help you?"

Snyder looked at his partner as if to say he had control of the situation, so Velasquez sidled up to the bar and sat on a stool. She looked so put together, her black hair pulled into a tight bun, not a hair out of place and her mocha skin looked flawless. "I actually wanted to talk to you, Veronica." Snyder turned to Walter. "Would it be okay if she stepped outside with us for a moment?"

Walter just wanted them gone. He wanted them out of his bar and out of his Canyon. If talking to Ronnie alone meant that would happen faster, he was all for it. Walter nodded, so Ronnie stepped out on to the run down porch that was in much need of repair. "What can I possibly help you with, Agent Snyder?" Ronnie managed to keep her tone even, though her insides were twisting and turning.

"I ran a background check on you. Standard procedure in a case like this to weed out all possible suspects. Turns out you were a runaway a few years back when you were still a minor. You used to live in Salt Lake City, am I correct?"

Ronnie felt the color leaving her face. "I'm an adult now."

"True, but there were authorities looking for you when you were still a minor." Velasquez chimed in. "What made you leave Salt Lake?"

"That is nobody's business. If I were still a minor, I would get the relevance, but I am not. There is no one back in Salt Lake I care to have contact with. I don't really care if they were looking for me. It was all bullshit anyway!" Ronnie's voice escalated.

"Whoa there, girl." Snyder put his hand up. "Easy. You are an adult now, true, but your father was making every effort to find you the first year you were gone. It was our duty to notify him that we found you."

Ronnie griped her stomach, feeling the contents rising to her mouth. "What? You told him where I am?" Her breathing was becoming fast and shallow. She could feel the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Ronnie started to pace, making the old boards creek on the porch as she tried her best to not throw up.

Velasquez looked over at her partner, not completely understanding Ronnie's reaction to the news. There was obviously a reason Ronnie had run away - seeing this reaction it was not a good life she was trying to get away from. Velasquez was not motherly at all. She had always been a tomboy where most things were concerned and had always wanted to be a cop. Being a woman, she felt she needed to embrace her masculine side to stay ahead of the game so she felt awkward when Snyder gave her a look saying she needed to do something. Taking a breath, she walked over to Ronnie and grabbed her shoulders. "Veronica, are you okay?" she said in her most maternal voice.

"No! No! I am not okay! Why did you tell him? He's going to come here and he's going to find me! This is your fault!" she snapped an angry look at Snyder, her voice reaching a full scream. "I don't want to see him!" She broke free of the agents grip and headed toward the door but Snyder grabbed her arm to stop her. Ronnie spun around and hit his arm away from hers. "Don't you touch me! Don't you fucking touch me! Not ever! I don't care who you are. You've ruined everything!" As she ran inside Snyder made a move like he was going to follow, but Velasquez stopped him.

"Don't," she said. "I don't think Daddy is a very good man. And unless she is part of our investigation, Veronica's relationship with her father is not our business." Velasquez realized she actually felt sorry for Ronnie. Her father must be a bad man for her to have turned the shade of white she had. "Let's get out of here and follow up on that lead in Vernal." Snyder agreed and they left together.

Ronnie stormed back into the bar, the sight of her tears causing Walter alarm. "Honey, what is wrong? What did they say to you that had you yelling?" He handed her a bar rag to wipe away her tears.

"I am sorry, Walter, but can I please leave for the day?" She was still heaving, trying hard to catch a steady breath. Walter looked her in the eyes and smiled, giving her the okay. Ronnie turned and walked out of the bar, apron still on and started to head toward her place. This was a moment she was upset she did not have a car. All she wanted was to be locked in her house where she would feel safe. Away from the world, away from prying eyes and away from those moronic FBI agents that just sent her world in to a tail spin. Approaching the turn off to her house, she heard a vehicle coming up behind her and stepped off the shoulder. To her surprise, Mac's truck stopped. He hopped out and rounded the front of the old Chevy.

"Where you going in such a hurry? Why you not workin'?" Mac said with no concern in his tone.

Ronnie stopped and looked at him. Lifting her hand to shade her eyes from the intruding sun, she attempted to speak calmly to him, but did not do a very good job. "None of your business, Mac. You don't give a shit about me. My life is fucked because you did something stupid and now those FBI agents have totally screwed me over."

Mac wanted to hit her. She had no right to talk to him like that and knew nothing, but somehow the feisty attitude she had grown into over the past week or so was such a turn on for him. Maybe it was time for a little fun? "You angry with me or them?"

She huffed. "Them."

"Good. Get in." he pointed to the passenger side and went back around getting in, waiting for her.

Ronnie got in to the truck and crossed her arms trying to make it obvious she did not want to talk. Mac drove by her turn off and continued driving out the old highway. When he passed the exit for his house she finally spoke up. "Where are we going?"

Mac just looked at her and smiled. His grin gave her chills and the thought popped in to her mind that she had crossed the line back on the roadside and she was in for some of Mac's real rage that did not include hot sex at the end. He continued to drive out into the desert - some place she had never been all the years she had lived in Caineville. For miles there was nothing but switchbacks and odd looking rock formations that had made Red Canyon such an interesting place for outdoorsy type people. Pulling his truck up to a rocky formation that passed as a mountain she was looking around for anything that looked familiar to her. No luck. She was someplace she would not even be able to find her way out of if she needed to escape Mac's fury. He got out of the truck and walked around to her door, opening it for her. The gentlemanly gesture made her feel more uneasy, but not wanting to fuel the fire any more than she already had; Ronnie stepped out of the vehicle. Mac just continued to stare at her with a look that kept her feeling unsettled. After she was out, he slammed the door and started walking toward the cliff side. Ronnie followed him and as they closed in, she noticed the entrance to what looked like an old mine shaft.

He stopped and turned to her before walking in and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one and inhaling deep. "So you're mad at them and not me?" Again with a flat tone. Ronnie could not tell if he was messing with her or if he actually cared.

"I'm not mad at you, Mac. Those stupid FBI agents told my father where I am and I know he is going to come looking for me. He's a vindictive bastard and he'll do it just to hurt me." She sighed, hoping Mac really was concerned.

"Tough. Those FBI guys are wreaking havoc all over this Canyon, for sure. But I got a way for you to let off some steam. You're already in the middle of the mess because you lied to them. They won't take kindly to you being a liar. Since you're in it - might as well do something that really keeps you there, right?" taking another drag off his smoke.

Ronnie contemplated what Mac was saying. He was right. She was in trouble either way and more so now if her Dad showed up because she would not be able to control this new found aggression inside her. "I guess. I'm already standing in shit - how much worse can it get?"

Mac chuckled - an honest to goodness laugh that Ronnie had never heard from him in all the years she had known him. That may have been more unnerving than anything else that happened that day. He waved her in to the cave and she reluctantly led the way. It was dark and rocky and even though she stumbled a few times she could see a light ahead and kept walking toward it worried that he would get her from behind. The closer the got to the light she noticed a horrible smell, like an animal rotting. Ronnie stopped. Mac must not have been paying attention because he walked right in to her. "What the hell, girl? Keep going!"

"What's that smell?"

"You think you know me so well, don't you? I guess in a way you do. That irritates me. But you got fire, Ronnie. And rage. Never took you for the kind of girl who willingly takes what I have to give. I like that fight. But how far you willing to take that?" He walked around her slowly pressing his body against hers and gently rubbing his hands across her thighs as he did. Disappearing into the light, Ronnie took a breath. Her concern for Mac's upset had passed and now curiosity had the better of her. She walked into a cavern that was lit by kerosene lamps. Looking around, she could see barrels, equipment, beakers, masks - a whole chain hanging from the ceiling covered in gas masks - and a few things she didn't expect including a mattress. The smell was overwhelming, definitely something had died in there. Mac leaned against one of the barrels and pulled his little tin from his packet sniffing up some of the contents. When he offered it to her she actually considered it, but waved her hand. Feeling a bit uneasy again because of the grotesque odor, she walked further into the room and screamed. Laying up against the wall of the cavern were the three men from the bar - the men the FBI were looking for. One of them was dead and looked like he had been since the night they went missing. He looked like he had been mutilated like one of those cows from a farmer's field - the ones always blamed on aliens. The other two looked rough - lips dried and cracked with crusty blood on various parts of their bodies. They were dirty and soiled, in more ways than one and it made Ronnie's stomach turn again.

"You did do it." She said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

Mac came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Whispering in her ear and sending goose bumps down her arms, "They deserved it. They're assholes. Those FBI guys pissed you off. They got big bad Daddy on your scent and he's gonna come for you. What are you going to do about it, Ronnie? You gonna let those pricks control you?"

Ronnie looked over her shoulder at him. There was something about his calmness that not only made her feel better about the situation but she was actually getting turned on. She turned and kissed him. The kiss was not rough enough for Mac, so he shoved her back and pulled the knife off his hip placing it in her hand.

"What am I supposed to do?" she shook.

"Take it out on them. Whatever Daddy did, whatever Agent Snyder and that dumb bitch partner of his did. Take it out on them. They don't deserve all this attention anyway."

The short length of time it took Ronnie to come to the decision to join Mac in this level of destruction would have scared a normal person, but Ronnie knew she was not normal. Her whole life she had been abused and treated like a pawn for some else to gain pleasure. Mac was offering her freedom. More than that, he was offering her a choice. She could fight back against a world she hated most days or she could continue to be a victim. Gripping the knife tightly she chose to fight back. Fuck this world. Every time she tried she got screwed - both figuratively and literally. She may have lied to the FBI, but why did the consequence have to be Michael Gibbs coming back into her life? No part of that seemed fair. If her life was going to bend to the whims of a fate dictated by some asshole it was time to throw rules out the window and make her own.

She smiled at Mac in a way that actually disturbed him. Part of him thought she would cave to the greater good and do no harm, but she didn't. The look in Ronnie's eyes showed she had reached a breaking point there was no coming back from. She turned and walked over to the last two men. Slowly and methodically she cut into Jacob Bloxham using Ryan DuFour's corpse as a sample and guide of what to do. With each cut and groan of pain she felt a surge of power and control she had never felt before. It was completely euphoric and almost hypnotic. Jake sputtered on his blood as she yanked his intestines from his body and splayed them out in a spider-like design that mimicked his dead friend. She stood, covered in blood and turned with a sense of pride to Mac to see if he approved.

Mac had done a lot of bad things, but he knew this crossed a line. Fucking Ronnie would certainly piss Walter off, but he had just convinced her to commit murder and had hardly even made an effort doing so. Somehow he realized this was more about her than him. He just rolled with it. She had that frustrated look in her eyes that she had the night he had stayed with her. He knew she would let him do whatever he wanted and that made him want her so badly he almost craved her as much as the drugs. Before he could react, Ronnie threw the knife down on the ground and swiftly cleared the distance between her and Mac. She shoved him backwards towards the mattress and he let her. Down he went, and she was already ripping her clothes off in eager anticipation. She straddled over the top of him and grabbed his hands forcing them onto her breasts and then moved to unbutton his pants. When they came off he slid his belt out and wrapped it around her neck in the same fluid motion flipping her onto her back so he had control. Ronnie wasn't afraid. She wanted Mac to do whatever he wanted to. As he penetrated her as roughly as he ever had he squeezed the belt around her neck. She could feel her eyes getting tight like they were bulging from the sockets but before she thought she would pass out he released the grip allow for a great swell of air fill her lungs. He leaned over her and bit into her neck, his hands keeping her body close enough to make each forceful shove more enjoyable. She could hear herself screaming in pleasure and it only made her enjoy it more. She grabbed Mac behind his ears, digging her nails into his hairline and pulling herself up. They were so fluid together he knelt up bringing her down on his lap and giving her enough control for her to reach full climax. For a girl who had no clue what she was doing the first time around she had become everything Mac enjoyed in bed. She was rough and she liked it equally as tawdry. She had learned how to control every part of her body so they would cum at the same time. As it happened, Ronnie bit into Mac's shoulder drawing blood. He dug his nails into her lower back and let out a bear-like growl of complete satisfaction.

Mac would never fall in love, but Ronnie was the closest he would ever get. Her willingness to do and try anything only made him want her more. She had an evil streak that made him rock hard and he was willing to accept that about her. She was like a new addiction for him. No, it was not love - something much darker. Murder and anger do not exist in love, but whatever this was he was willing to explore.


	7. Chapter 7

_Edgar Crowley, son of prominent Utah State Senator Edward Crowley is still missing. Local authorities in Garfield County have been working in conjunction with state police and the FBI to locate the Senator's son, age 24. He has been officially missing for two weeks. _A female reporters voice droned on the TV in a very posh office in Ogden. _Normally after this length of time, such a case would turn from a search to a recovery. The FBI, who are leading the investigation, have not released much information concerning what they have discovered or any possible leads though Senator Crowley has made a plea for Edgar's safe return. If anyone has any details concerning the matter please contact the FBI offices in Salt Lake City._

Edward Crowley grabbed the remote control and turned the television off. His headache was not going away and seeing his son's image on the news daily only seemed to make the headache remain a constant part of his current state. A drink would be nice, but he was waiting on a visit from the state bureau and he wanted his head about him. There really had been no progress and the lack of success in most missing person cases made the Senator feel like he would never see his son again. Trying to comfort his wife had proved to be the hardest part. That and the conversations he had with the Bloxham and DuFour families. There were no words he could ever speak that would bring them peace and it weighed on him like a ton of bricks.

The intercom buzzed on his desk phone. "Sir, Section Chief Frank Roman is here to see you now." came the voice of his longtime assistant.

"Thank you, Laura." Edward tried to say without sighing. "Please send him in."

The Senator stood and stretched the kinks out of his neck as Chief Roman entered the room. Roman glanced around seeing the photographs of both Governor Herbert and President Obama in prominent positions, along with the Utah State flag. The room was so put together and pristine it looked like a showroom model more than a space that was worked out of daily.

Roman extended his hand to the Senator, trying to avoid that look of pity that usually came with cases like this. "Senator, thank you for meeting with me today. I realize you still have a very busy schedule."

The Senator gestured for Roman to have a seat across from his large mahogany desk. The two men sat, both feeling like this meeting was futile. Roman looked across at this man that wanted answers badly and was happy to see he was going at this from the perspective of a father rather than a state official.

"Senator, I am sorry to say we have not found any further information leading to the recovery of your son. As I detailed in my report to you we located the car of Ryan DuFour on the old Caineville Wash Road. The car was discovered with the front passenger side door open and your son's iPhone 4 was shattered on the ground near the car on the other side. The vehicle had beer cans strewn throughout the back and we did find a few ounces of marijuana in the glove compartment along with a pipe and papers for rolling..."

The Senator raised his hand. "I realize my son was out there doing bad things. I do not need to relive the details of his disappearance. You said _recovery_. Has this turned in to a recovery effort? Is there no chance my son is still alive?"

Roman tried not to frown. "The chances of Edgar being found alive at this point are minimal. There was some evidence that some sort of scuffle had taken place at the scene. We cannot tell if it was between the three boys or if there was someone else involved. Agents Snyder and Velasquez have followed up on a few possible leads that maybe a local was involved, but thus far it has all led to dead ends. Despite any gut feelings our agents have - feelings do not convict and we cannot arrest anyone without sufficient cause. It was raining that night and it has made any kind of tracking nearly impossible. We had search dogs out in the field but we are talking about hundreds of miles of desert. The dogs have picked up no scent. At this point I feel the entire investigation should shift to recovery. I am terribly sorry, Senator."

Crowley looked at the framed picture on his desk of his family; his son and his wife smiling happily at him from some distant memory. How was he going to break the news to his wife that there was no reason to keep looking? If there was no chance of finding Edgar, Ryan, and Jacob alive it was time to move on. At first he had hoped there would be some letter or phone call demanding ransom, but that never happened. And if they never find Edgar's body he would have to stand there next to his beloved wife of the last 29 years and bury an empty casket in order to attempt closure. There was nothing else that could be done unless more evidence miraculously turned up.

"Thank you for coming out here to personally tell me this, Frank. I appreciate all the effort your team has made." Crowley stood and extended his hand. The two men shook and Roman left the office feeling all the pity he had hoped he would not. Losing a child could not be an easy thing and even more so when the loss was completely public and every journalist in the state wants a comment from you. The Senator sat back down and did his best to not break in to tears. Thinking of Edgar as a child, how sweet and kind he had been only made things worse. Then thinking of how this would affect his wife. Olivia Crowley was a wonderful mother. Edgar was their only child and this whole ordeal had not been easy for her. Having to bury an empty casket would devastate her. Crowley reached over to his right side drawer and opened it, pulling out a small glass decanter and poured himself a glass of scotch. His nerves were not going to get any better and he knew he needed to speak with Olivia and then arrange a press conference to let the public know what was happening. If anything, a public announcement would hopefully get those blasted reporters to stop camping out on his street hoping to catch a glimpse of the distraught parents. This would not be easy, but like everything else the Senator had been through in his life, he would face this with his head held high. He felt he owed Edgar that much.

Frank Roman left the Senator's office and immediately called Special Agent Snyder.

"Yes sir," the agent answered his phone.

"Snyder? I just finished speaking with the Senator. The man looks utterly defeated. I spoke with the parents of DuFour and Bloxham as well earlier today to let them know we needed to shift this to a recovery effort. I just need to know if you feel there is any reason we should keep this operation open as a search."

Snyder looked at his partner feeling uneasy about the whole thing. "As far as the evidence goes, sir, this should be shifted to a recovery operation. We have literally found nothing leading to any type of conviction. We have our suspicions, but there is nothing more than that sir. I am sorry."

Roman got to his car and hit the alarm. "I tend to trust my agents and their instincts. I tell you what, if you two aren't in a hurry to come back to Salt Lake, why don't you stick around for a few more days and help out with the recovery effort. If there was someone involved, maybe the shift from active investigation will make them relax enough to slip up. We can at least hope."

"Hope indeed, sir. We would be happy to stick around for the recovery efforts." Snyder smiled and gave sarcastic thumbs up to Velasquez who was not happy at all to hear they would be out in this god forsaken part of the country any longer. Sleeping in a fly by night motel in the middle of nowhere had a way of making you feel less than human. Maybe that is what happened to these boys - maybe they stayed one too many nights in seedy motels and just offed themselves.

When Snyder hung up, Velasquez punched him in the arm. "We had a choice and you want to stay?"

"Ouch!" rubbing his arm. "Come on, Donna. You said it yourself. These were somebody's children. Shouldn't we care enough to make every effort?"

"Yeah, that was two weeks ago. No one is going to survive two weeks out here without supplies. If they wandered out in to this desert, they are dead."

"And Chief Roman thinks if we shift to a full recovery effort we may draw out any one who may have been involved. We both know that Ramirez guy is a bad dude. Despite the local law singing his praises for just being incorrigible. He's dirty and a hell of a lot smarter than he looks considering he's a meth head. Something will come up. He'll slip and when he does we'll catch him."

Velasquez was always surprised that no matter how confident her partner sounded he rarely came off as cocky. Snyder was right and so was the Chief. Maybe if they find this Crowley kid she could get a transfer to Jersey or Maryland where she originally wanted to begin with. She smiled at her partner letting him know she agreed. "But next time we camp out in some shit hole town, we need to find a hotel with a Jacuzzi."

Mac was sitting in his house feeling very unlike himself. Having watched Ronnie kill that man was so exhilarating. He honestly had not thought she would do it; the fact she had aroused him just thinking about it. The session they had afterwards was even more exciting. Ronnie was a surprise. All the years he had known her she seemed so mousy. She was jumpy and always seemed to freeze up or look upset when men would hit on her. It was usually tourists. Walter must have known more about her past to be as protective of her as he was. At first he wanted to hate her because Walter seemed to care more about her than him. The way he doted on her was similar to how he treated Devon. If he could kill Devon and get away with it he would. Mac knew there was no way he would ever get away with it. He'd have to go to Los Angeles to do it and how would he ever explain why he was gone that long? Plus, he didn't know anything about LA - killing in Utah was easy. There were so many wide open spaces and places to hide and dump bodies. There were also plenty of wild animals to help finish the jobs and make bodies completely disappear. Los Angeles was a concrete jungle. Not knowing the ins and outs of a city life made it impossible for Mac to do anything and get off scott free. The only plus was Devon didn't come around very often. In fact, it had been years since he had been around - not since he was a teenager.

Devon had come out with his 'parents'. That whore of a mother of his and the man that thought he was Devon's dad. A lot of bad things had taken place during that visit. The slut and the new man had a daughter together - Regina. She was as big of a tramp as her mother. She had come to town and started banging that retard, Harley. Devon wanted to show Reggie how cool he was so he drug her out to the cave. That pissed Mac off something fierce that Devon even knew about the cave. Devon wasn't part of the operation. He didn't make the meth, he didn't even sell it. Back then Mac did everything with a buddy of his and he didn't use the stuff. Mac always had dabbled with other drugs, but never the meth. His friend did though. Rick had been pretty hard core - one of the reasons Mac would hang out with him. But Rick was also an asshole and was the one that got Mac hooked on meth. He slipped it to him that night and Mac's life had never really been the same since. It pissed Walter off that Mac had started using but part of him liked the high. It was different from the other drugs he used and in the end part of him felt like he had been missing out. Rick died that night in the cave. That bitch Reggie had killed him and Mac would never let Devon live that down.

What made everything worse was that harlot of a mom and his supposed dad were killed in a car accident that night while out looking for him. Walter had never forgiven Mac for that and could care less about the other events that had taken place. He didn't care that Rick had been killed, that the bastard female child had done it and he didn't care that none of it would have taken place had Devon not gone out to the cave. Mac made sure Reggie would never want to come back to the Canyon. He had tortured and raped her that night and even made sure Devon had a little fun with her. Devon just cried like the pussy he was and in the end, Mac was the bad guy in Walter's eyes. Mac was the let down - the fuck up, as Walter always put it. Sometimes the thought would pop in his head wondering if Walter would care more about him had he been a product of that relationship. None of it mattered. It wasn't his life. His mom died when he was little after abandoning him. She was never a good mother anyway. He recalled her disappearing for days at a time and beating him with a belt when he'd do anything she felt was inappropriate. He remembered her leaving one day and never coming back. When Walter started seeing Devon's mother, Mac had asked what happened to his mother. Walter, mean as ever, said the police had found her dead in a truck stop bathroom in Wendover - needle still in her arm. You would think that would have deterred Mac from ever using any kind of hard drugs but it only fueled his curiosity. Mac would steal Walter's cigarettes starting around age 12, then booze from the bar by 14. Then he met Rick and along came some of the harder stuff. Cocaine, LSD. Never heroin, which had killed his mother and never the meth though.

Mac drifted off in his thoughts, enjoying a beer when he heard a knock on the door. It was pretty late so he was a bit shocked anyone would be coming over. The people he sold to knew better than to ever come to his house, but on occasion there were less than bright people who came knocking anyway because they couldn't hold out. Mac went to the door, surprised to see Walter. Even more shocked because Walter didn't looked pissed.

"Walter." Mac said flatly.

"Boy." Walter pushed his way in as usual. Mac huffed like a teenager and let his dad come in.

"What's up? I got the newest batch all ready. Is that what this is about?" Mac shut the door behind him.

"No. That is good news to hear, but no. I came to tell you they are stopping the search. It has shifted to a full recovery operation as of today. They will likely only be here for one more week and then they'll clear out." Walter looked like he wanted to dance a jig.

"Okay. So why'd you come out here to tell me? Why couldn't this just wait until I was at the shop tomorrow?"

Walter grimaced. "Why are you always so fucking disrespectful, boy?"

Mac stood a little straighter and tried to not look his father in the eye. "Yeah, thanks, Pop for telling me."

"It's not the only reason I came out. This is about Ronnie too. I know you are having your way with her and I think you should stop. She's not like you. You should leave her alone."

Mac finally connected sight with his dad. "You asking or telling?"

"Telling you does nothing. So I guess I am asking."

"Well, she's not as precious as you think. She don't use or anything but she's not some little angel, Pop. It should be her choice, don't you think?" Mac was actually feeling anger that anyone would try and take away his new drug.

"She is impressionable, Mac. You'll do more harm than good." Walter was trying to sound fatherly but it was too little too late for Mac. All these years he had been treated like a second rate child and now Walter wanted to play concerned Daddy?

"Too fucking bad. I'm not forcing her to do anything. And I swear Pop if you fuck this up by telling her I'm no good for her I'll fucking leave. You can cook your own damn meth!" Once the sentence had exited his mouth he knew he had said too much. Walter reared back and his fist connected with Mac's brow before he could even react. Even if he could have reacted, he never fought back against his father. Now that Mac was an adult it was rare that Walter ever laid hands on him, but when he did he was swift and it always seem to catch Mac off guard. Walter may looked old and feeble, but he really was not much of either. It seemed to work to his advantage.

Mac stumbled back a step and felt the warm blood running down his cheek where his skin had separated just above his eyebrow. Anger welled up inside of him and he wanted so badly to fight back but he resisted. He stood up and looked his father in the eyes.

"I have had enough of your shit, Mac. We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you could control yourself. You end this thing with Ronnie. She does not need to be caught up in your mess!" Walter wagged his finger at Mac.

"Sure, Pop. Whatever you say." Mac said. He wanted to hurt Walter, but he knew there were better ways to vent his frustrations. Ending things with Ronnie felt like it was not an option. Walter had no clue what his little princess was capable of and Mac felt no desire to tell him. He would be the one taking the blame anyway. They would just have to be less open with whatever it was they had together.

Walter left feeling satisfied he had been successful. As Mac shut the door, he picked up the nearest empty beer bottle and threw it up against the wall shattering it. Glass flying in every direction, he marched into the kitchen and knocked everything off the fridge. If there was something lying about it was fair game and Mac rampaged his own home throwing and breaking things, screaming out the hatred he felt for his father. That wasn't even the part that bothered him - it was he felt he could never stand up to Walter. His whole life he would just cave and do whatever daddy wanted. _Not this time, _Mac thought. Ronnie was going to remain his. She was too good a deal to just let go and that pissed Mac off even more. He didn't want to have feelings for her and couldn't tell if that was where this rage was coming from. Did he want to keep things going because she was nasty like him? Or was it something more?

There was only one way to find out. Mac dug his keys out from under a mess of things he had thrown and ran out to his truck slamming the door behind him. _Ronnie better be home and she better be ready for me._


	8. Chapter 8

Mac pulled up in front of Ronnie's house. He was still fuming over Walter and knew this probably wouldn't be pretty, but he did not care. He needed some of this new high and was going to get it. Pounding on her door impatiently, he was about to walk right in when she answered.

"Mac, what's going on?" she asked surprised.

He pushed his way in and started pacing. "What do you want?" he snapped.

She looked at him confused. "What do you mean what do I want. Mac, what is going on? Did something happen?"

"Walter! He fucking happened! He does not want us together. He thinks I am bad news for you. Thinks I will ruin your life." yelling at her, it didn't even faze her.

Ronnie watched Mac moving back and forth, picking at his scabs. She wanted to take him in her arms and calm him down, but inside she knew that would likely just drive him away. She valued the freedom he had given her far too much to lose him now. It took her a moment to finally answer. "He has no say in where this goes, Mac. He thinks he knows me but he is not my keeper, he's my employer and he cannot dictate who I choose to see."

The look on Mac's face was strange. It was like he had never had someone stand up for him before. Really, he had not. Walter always treated him like he was either a burden or a liability. When Devon was around, Mac became nothing more than a shadow and an annoyance. Now, here was this woman who not only was willing to stand up for him, but willing to take part in his life. She didn't even want to change him and it caught him off guard. He didn't know if he wanted to fuck her or run away. After a some deliberation, he decided to stay.

The sex was no different for them that night. Mac didn't know how to be gentle and he liked things rough. Since Ronnie seemed to take no issue with his coarse way he saw no point in changing. Each blow, each scratch, each bite only seemed to work them both in to a frenzy. What Mac did change-up was not leaving right away afterward. Typically with any woman it was a hit and run. They lay in Ronnie's bed worn out, when he looked over at her between drags on his cigarette. "They are stopping the investigation."

Ronnie sat up. "What? Are you serious?"

"Yeah. That is the reason Walter came to see me tonight. He wanted to tell me before he decided I needed put in my place for this." he said waving his finger over Ronnie's bed. She had noticed a cut above his eye but had not said anything before this.

She pointed at his face. "Did he do that?"

Mac reached up and touched his cut. "Yeah. Pop thinks he's a real fighter. One day though, that man will get what he's got coming." Taking a last drag off his cigarette and putting it out on Ronnie's nightstand. She gave him a look of disapproval, yet said nothing about the cigarette.

"Wait. That man is your father?" she tried to process the information. Sharing things about his private life was not something Mac was good at. Explaining to Ronnie anything about the relationship he had with his dad was not something that interested him. Mac looked over at her and gave a look that said she needed to mind her own business. "It's just... I never knew." she said softly.

He was done. This was getting to uncomfortable for Mac, so he got up and pulled his coveralls back on. "I'm leaving."

Ronnie moved to the edge of the bed, bearing enough skin to perhaps entice Mac in to staying longer. It didn't work. He did smile at her and made a gesture like he was going to lean in and kiss her, but only ended up grabbing his boots and walking out without saying another word.

Agent Snyder was standing in a tent was set up outside the local Garfield County Sheriff's Office. It had been their base of operations for the past few weeks and even though he was sorry he could not find a culprit - if there even was one - the idea of leaving this place and going home to his wife and daughter, Molly made him smile. Agent Velasquez stepped up beside him and handed him a cup of coffee.

"What are you grinning about?" she asked.

"Just happy I'm going home soon I guess. I miss Val and Molly. What about you?" he took a sip of his drink and looked at his partner.

"Happy you get to see Val and Molly too, I guess."

"Seriously, Donna. I know you were never thrilled about this assignment to begin with." he prodded.

"You're right there! This was a waste of time. Had Senator Crowley not made such a big stink we would have never been involved. This was no murder. This was a disappearing act by a stuck up rich kid and his party buddies. I mean, I know there are some bad people around here. What towns don't have that? But in the end we had nothing to go on other than the car. And that led us no where. As much as it pains me to say this, I will be glad to be back in Salt Lake City."

Snyder frowned at his partner. She was right though. They had nothing to go on. The last week was spent searching the remaining coordinates for the bodies of the three boys. Like everything else, it had turned up nothing. By week's end, the FBI had closed up shop and headed out-of-town back to their lives and families. Life having been disrupted in the Canyon for as much time as it was things were slowly settling back down in to the regular groove. Walter was well pleased and the patrons of the Luna Mesa benefited as he gave out a free round the first night the FBI had left town.

Mac went back to work at the garage and cooking up the next batch of meth for their next big order. Ronnie being as dedicated as she was had helped Mac move the bodies of Jake and Ryan far out in to the desert. They were ripe and before they even pulled away they heard the carrion birds circling overhead waiting for their next great meal. Ronnie had gone out to the cave with Mac after the body drop. Edgar Crowley was still there - untouched by either of them. As Mac was mixing up some ingredients, some of the less harmful ones, Ronnie looked over at Edgar.

"Is he even alive?" she said with a twinge of curiosity in her voice.

"Fuck if I know. He reeks of piss though. Boy is a fucking pussy."

"You ever give him water?" she got up and slowly started walking toward Edgar's body.

"A few times. I was trying to figure out what I was gonna do with him but I just got bored. The other two were fighters. Makes it more fun." Mac smiled to himself never looking up from his chemistry project. He could cook up meth in his sleep.

Ronnie knelt beside Edgar and reached out, checking for a pulse. Nothing. "I think he's dead. Should we dump him too?"

Mac finally looked up from what he was doing. "You sure he's dead?"

"Well if he's not, he should be. The investigation for him is over. Let's just throw his body off over some canyon ledge and be done with it. Why do you want his body in here anyway. That's a little sick, Mac. Even for you." Mac looked at her like he wanted to say something but didn't. It didn't take much more convincing. Once the sun went down, they loaded up Crowley's body into the back of Mac's truck and drove fifty or so miles away from Caineville proper. Mac knew every inch of the area and had to laugh to himself that the great and powerful FBI had never located his cave. Once they found the perfect place, Ronnie helped Mac carry Edgar's body to the edge and threw him over the side of a jagged cliff. They could hear his body breaking as it collided with the rocks below. If he wad not been dead - he certainly was now. Mac was rather impressed with Ronnie's ability to handle all the dark deeds he partook in.

On their way back in to town, the two did not talk much. Mac decided he needed a drink and since he had not been to the Luna Mesa in a few day it was time to liven the place up and get his father's goat by flaunting Ronnie. He pulled his truck up outside the bar and leaned over, groping Ronnie's breasts and giving her a sloppy and almost forced kiss. She looked at him a somewhat bewildered, but didn't stop him. They got out of the truck and she saw Mac take a sniff off his beloved drugs from the tin in his pocket before they walked in. The place was more lively than it had been for a while. The jukebox was playing some old 70's rock song. A group of local men were off in the corner playing pool. Ronnie could see one man off in the corner drinking alone with his back to the bar and Walter was wiping down the place like usual.

The two made their way to the bar and Mac made it a point to put his arm around Ronnie, gesturing to Walter that she was his girl. Ronnie smiled at Walter, but he frowned at her judgement.

"Two beers, Pop." Mac said loudly already making a scene. Walter got them beers and said nothing. He was not one for making a public stink. The lower the profile the better so he let Mac do as he was going to. There was obviously nothing he could say at this point and he had to admit that Ronnie did look genuinely happy. How that was possible was a mystery, but Walter had no room or right to interfere and decided it would be better to just let them do their thing. The police were out of the Canyon and that was good enough for him.

The night wore on. Mac and Ronnie had joined the men at the pool table and were actually enjoying themselves. It was the first time they had ever been out together in a social situation and Ronnie was surprised Mac was being so well-behaved. Most nights he hung out at the Mesa getting drunk he would start some fight or encourage some other person to take the first swing, but not tonight. Mac was making it a point to show Walter that he could be with Ronnie and not get her into some form of trouble. Why he even cared enough to put up the front was a question that never crossed her mind as they laughed and teased each other and the guys they were playing pool with. Had you walked in to the bar you would have thought they were a normal couple that didn't beat the hell out of each other when they had sex and it never would have crossed your mind that they were murders. Mac had his moments when he was not a complete asshole. If he didn't, Walter wouldn't let him sell the meth he made. He would have remained a cook only. He had some charm, though not much.

Towards closing time, Ronnie walked up to the bar to get two more beers for her and Mac. She was smiling and laughing; enough to make Walter give her a toothy grin back. The man who had sat in the corner all night nursing what had appeared to be one beer walked up beside her. Ronnie was not paying that much attention as Mac had just made a tricky shot that made the guy he was playing with release a slew of foul words. When the man spoke, Ronnie froze.

"How much it is for one of those little rooms across the way?"

"Needing to sleep off that beer are you?" Walter chuckled. "$33 a night for a single room." Before Walter could say anything else, the beers in her hands hit the floor. Everything felt like it was in slow motion. She turned praying that she would not see the man she thought it was. Every fiber of her being started to shake.

"Daddy?"


	9. Chapter 9

Ronnie stood there staring at her father - fear coursing through every part of her body. He stood nearby with a smile and took a step toward her.

"Pumpkin? It is you!" Reaching his arms out to take her in them she stepped back and tripped over Mac. He caught her from falling to the ground and shot a look at Mr. Gibbs.

"Don't call me that! You don't get to call me that! I'm not your pumpkin or your baby girl or your anything!" Her elevated voice was making everyone in the bar pay attention. The people in the Luna had known Ronnie for as long as she had been in Caineville and never once had they seen her act out. Raising her voice was enough to get people interested, though some of them just thought perhaps hanging out with Mac had done it. She must be on drugs. Ronnie turned to Mac looking for some form of escape. "Let's leave. Please." The tears were stinging her eyes.

Mac nodded, seeing the look in Walter's face that it was time to get her out of there, and walked her outside. She was shaking but he had no clue what to do for her. It was more drama than any one girl was worth; though remembering her cutting that stupid hiker up, he couldn't help but want to do something.

"Get in the truck. I'll take you home."

She crawled in to the cab - eyes fixed on the door of the Luna Mesa willing her father to stay inside. Mac got in and started the truck, the sound of the engine making her heart slow a little. Mac looked over at her and hoped she wouldn't become some needy basket case. He liked the Ronnie he had seen back at the cave. The disturbed and out of control girl that was dark and fucked hard. Mac couldn't see that girl right now.

"Take me to your place, please? Can we just go to your place? I don't want him to find me - what if he knows where I live already?" She was chewing her nail and giving Mac sad eyes.

"How the hell would he know that?" Mac did nothing to keep the frustration out of his voice.

"The same way he found me, Mac. Those bastard FBI agents! They told him I was here in Caineville! They led him to me!" Tears were falling despite the hatred in her voice.

Mac did not like the snappy tone at all. "Alight! Stop your fucking nagging or I will take you to your place. Got it? Shit Ronnie, I ain't your fucking body guard!"

As much as she was trying to not cry, though tears were escaping, there was no point in holding back any longer. She looked out the window and let the tears fall knowing Mac would take her home just to make his point. Neither of them said another word until after they had gotten to Mac's place. Her mind was racing. Ronnie was trying her hardest to get her head back in the game. She knew she was a different person now. Stronger. Somehow seeing her father again made all that strength disappear. She wanted that back.

"Thank you." She whispered once she felt safe in his home.

"Don't fucking thank me. I didn't do it to help you. We're here, so we should fuck. That's why I did it." He grabbed her hair and jerked her head back, biting into her neck.

Her head still swimming, she pushed him back and slapped him. "Mac, stop!"

He just chuckled and licked the side of his mouth checking to make sure he was not bleeding. "Fight or no fight, this is happening." Mac wrapped his arms around her, squirming to get away, and carried her to the bedroom. Throwing her down on the bed he unbuckled his pants and crawled on the bed before she could get away. "Oh, no you don't. You owe me!"

"Mac, stop! I can't do this right now!" she screamed still trying to break free of his grasp. She was no longer afraid of him and knew exactly what he was doing she just was not in the mood. Knowing he liked it rough did not help.

"Yeah, baby, move like that." He got behind her and jerked her pants down sticking his hand between her legs. He could feel she was getting wet and he smiled knowing he had won. Saying something might kill her fight so he kept letting her struggle.

"Mac!"

Pretending to be pissed to keep her fighting, he grabbed her hair again and pulled her upright. "You shut up and take it or I'll take you back to the Luna!"

Ronnie stopped. The idea of her father was far worse than anything Mac could ever do to her, so she stopped fighting. He put himself inside her and started pounding. As much as she wasn't into it at first it did feel good so she started to move with him. He grabbed her hair again, arching her back - pulling hard enough to get a deep groan of pain out of her. Before he got off he stopped, gripping her hips and flipping her over. He placed her legs over his shoulders and even though he was not concerned with pleasing her, she did reach climax just before him. Mac got up and grabbed a cigarette, looking at her.

"So what are you going to do Ronnie? You gonna be a scared little kid or are you gonna fight back?" He didn't take his eyes off her.

She was distracted for a while but now the focus was back on Michael and his presence in Caineville. She sat on the bed half naked with her legs pulled up biting her nail. She wanted that feeling of control again so badly. The only time she had it was with Mac and in the cave. How was it that a guy like Mac made her feel whole and her own father was the only person to ever make her feel worthless? She knew there was only one solution but wrapping her head around it was a whole other story.

Later the next evening Michael Gibbs sat at the bar in the Luna Mesa nursing his one beer for the day. He had drank a lot of alcohol over the years and eventually it was going to kill him. After Ronnie ran away from home Michael had done his best to sober up. All the years he had spent abusing her in his sobriety he had reached a point where he knew he needed to apologize to her. It would never make up for the thing he had done and in his current state of weakness he felt like one beer would not hurt anything. It tasted good as the cool liquid flooded his mouth. Even being a mass-produced national brand didn't bother him - it was just nice to taste beer again. He stared at the bottle trying to decide what he missed more. Shaking his head, he was there to apologize to Ronnie not get her back and not play the role of father to her that he never had while she was growing up. Picking at the label on his bottle he did not notice Mac step up beside him.

"Michael, right?" Mac chimed in after Walter handed him his drink.

Gibbs picked his head up and focused on the younger man. "You're the guy who was with my daughter last night."

Mac shook his head and took a drink. He took a moment to size the guy up. Michael was slightly taller, overweight with a potbelly induced by years of drinking, balding and to Mac smelled odd like salami or some other form of deli meat. Seeing Michael was almost done with his beer, Mac made a gesture seeing if he wanted another beer. Of course Michael wanted another one. His sponsors voice was ringing in his head and he knew he'd already screwed up having a single beer. Would Ronnie listen to him if he were drunk? It was possible she would not listen to him at all. Waving off the offer, he cocked his head hoping to get something out of Mac about his daughter.

"Why are you here, Mr. Gibbs? What's your business?"

"Are you Veronica's husband? Boyfriend?" Michael probed.

Mac's eye brow came up. He definitely was no one's husband and even boyfriend was too much. _Fuck buddies?_ That is how he wanted to answer; instead he just stared at Michael waiting for an answer.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Gibbs answered, "I am sure if you are in any kind of a relationship with my daughter she has told you what kind of a father I was." Michael looked away. Right about now another beer sounded good but he resisted. "Not a very good one. I understand she wants to be off on her own and I obviously can't stop her now, she is an adult. I just wanted to..." He choked on his words. "No, I needed to apologize to her." Michael looked back up at Mac, fishing for some sort of response.

"An apology, really? You think you can just say you're sorry and make everything better? Mike, you are a real card even showing up here. She ran away from home did you really think hunting her down would prove something?" Mac snapped.

"I do not expect anything, young man. I just want to apologize to her. I have been sober for a few years now and it was time to tell her I regret how I treated her." Michael looked down again.

"I don't know much about sobriety, mister, but I am pretty sure that includes not drinking." Mac tapped the beer bottle rolling through Michael's fingers.

"I was just nervous. When Veronica left, I thought I would never see her again. I knew it was my fault. I was a sick man," making eye contact with Mac again. "But I am better now and I am supposed to apologize to everyone I ever hurt. No one was more hurt than my little girl."

Mac laughed. "You're a sick fucker. No amount of regret will ever make up for the things you did to her." He spoke low so no one else in the bar could hear - not even Walter. "But you are making an effort. I can see that. I think you should have the chance to say your peace, even if she does not want to hear it. I can arrange that."

Michael looked up at Mac with a splash of hope in his eyes. "Do you mean that? You think my Veronica would listen to me? Hear me out?"

Mac took the last drink of his beer and set his bottle back down on the bar. "Didn't say that. But I can arrange the meeting. My advice would be to not call her _your_ Veronica. First, she goes by Ronnie now. Second, she does not like any term that makes her feel owned."

Michael was not sure what to say. Mac told him where to meet them later that night stating it would have to be a controlled situation so Ronnie felt like she had as much control as possible. He agreed and left the bar with a slight tear in his eye. Mac stepped out on to the porch of the Luna to smoke a cigarette and processed the conversation. Ronnie had never once told him the things her father had done but judging from her actions Michael had either been very physically or sexually abusive. It did not take much to figure that out. For all the foul things Mac had done in his life, trying to or actually having sex with a child was pretty disgusting. Ronnie was not afraid of being smacked around but she hated when he referred to himself as _daddy_ leaving the sexual abuse the only answer. _Yeah, this guy needs to die._ The thought made Mac feel almost saint-like. He was always up for a little mischief and if it helped him see Ronnie the way he liked her then it was worth the effort. Hell, this was all her idea anyway. Mac was just playing his part. As he finished up his cigarette he realized he had never made an effort before with a girl. He spit on the ground and flicked his cigarette out into the parking lot. This was not for Ronnie he told himself. This was just another thing to do.

Around eleven that night, a small rental car pulled up outside of Mac's house. Ronnie was pacing and it was pissing Mac off. "Look, if you are not going to get your head in this why the fuck are we even trying?"

"It's not about the plan. It is just being in the same room as him again."

"Don't care. You wanted this, I made it happen. You're gonna fucking do it now."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, sir."

Mac rolled his eyes and allowed himself a smile. He went to the door and let Michael inside. The old man walked in nervous and looked around not seeing Ronnie anywhere. She was in the bedroom preparing herself for the encounter. Walking out she made eye contact with him immediately. He smiled at her though she did not return the gesture. Her stomach was twisting in to knots. When she left Salt Lake City she had hoped she never had to see him again. Mac told him to take a seat and Ronnie came around sitting in a chair across from him.

"Michael," she said trying not to sound entirely harsh. "Mac says you want to say something to me?"

He looked at his feet, playing with his fingers. "Yes. Veronica, I mean Ronnie; I wanted to apologize to you for the horrible things I did to you when we were together."

"Together? You mean when I was a child growing up and you should have protected me and taken care of me and instead you treated me like an object for your sexual sickness?" The harsh coming across loud and clear. He shook, tears forming in his eyes. She could almost see regret but there was definitely something missing though she could not place what it was. Not that is mattered much at this point anyway. Saying you are sorry for sexually abusing someone is like putting a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound.

"I was a lousy father to you, yes."

"Why can't you say it, Michael? Is it too much for you to handle? Can you not admit what you did or do you think a blanket apology is good enough?"

Mac was watching and could see that fire increasing in her eyes. He liked seeing the fear was being replaced with hatred. Michael continued to fumble nervously.

"I know I have to say it - the words - but I am ashamed of what I did, Ronnie. I can never take back anything I ever did to you."

Ronnie stood and started to pace and Mac used that as an excuse to exit the room and head to his bedroom. "Everything you ever did... how many girls can say they lost their virginity to their father? You are an evil, rotten man. I hate you. I hate everything about you. I hate that you are here and I hate that you feel like this will make anything better. If you are seeking forgiveness you will not get it from me."

Michael stood and started to close the space between them. As Ronnie turned she saw him approaching, a look on his face like he wanted to hug her and try to make her feel better but there was no way she was going to ever let him touch her again. Faster than Michael had probably ever seen a person move, Ronnie was on him. The long kitchen knife she had tucked in to her back pocket was out and buried in his stomach. Her other hand came up and grabbed his neck forcing him to look into her eyes. In and out she drove the knife never looking away. She wanted to see the life leave his eyes. His body collapsed to the floor, reaching out to her in a attempt to make her stop - though the attempt was weak. Ronnie crawled on top of him not caring that she was getting completely saturated in his blood. Michael tried to speak but she had stabbed through his lungs a few times and the only thing that exited his mouth was a pink froth. Seeing there was no way he was going to survive what she had done she set the knife down and leaned into his ear.

"Scream for me, Daddy. I want to hear you scream my name. Can you do that for me?" The viciousness in her voice made Michael choke and cough and his body struggled for air that was escaping from all the wounds in his torso. Mac heard the deal going down and walked out in time to see Ronnie straddling her father holding his face in her hand. There was not one thing disturbing to him about the scene. He just took it all in and let her sit there until Michael Gibbs took his last breath. As planned, they loaded the body into Mac's truck and drove out to the place they had dumped Edgar Crowley's body and threw Michael Gibbs off in to the ravine. He was fresh and bloody enough that the coyotes and other animals would likely eat a great deal of him before anyone was the wiser that he was even missing. It was too dark to see if Crowley's body was still down there but at this point it did not really matter. The FBI had closed to investigation and gone back to Salt Lake City and unless there was some horrible storm that washed the bodies out of the ravine they were gold. Back at Mac's place, Ronnie cleaned up the bloody mess she had made. Mac just stood there watching - not helping at all until she was done he took her hand and led her to the bathroom. Taking off their clothes he got in to the shower with her. The hot water felt good and even though Ronnie had just done something she had dreamed of doing the look in her eyes was nearly blank. She didn't feel guilty; she didn't feel bad and definitely felt no regret. She also was not happy. There was no relief it was just done. Mac stood behind Ronnie letting the blood wash off her then bit into her neck enough to get a reaction. He pushed her body into the shower wall and preceded to take full advantage of her nakedness. Not only did Ronnie not protest, but she played back and made sure she enjoyed every moment of the session. When they were done, Mac did not ask her to leave so she didn't. She crawled in to bed with him and they both fell asleep - the nights events never once making either of them feel uneasy.


End file.
